


Mad Hatter

by Miss_Swan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: BAMF Blaise Zabini, BAMF Hermione Granger, BAMF Luna Lovegood, BAMF!Harry Potter, Badass!Severus, Black Family, Dumbledore!bashing, F/F, F/M, Family, Female Harry Potter, Good!Hermione, Good!Severus Snape, Harry Potter has a snake, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, M/M, Magical Creatures, Master of Death!Harry Potter, Mentor Severus Snape, Motherly!Harry, Neutral Harry Potter, Nono Vongola!Bashing, Parselmouth Harry Potter, Protective!Snape, Sawada Iemitsu Bashing, Sky Harry Potter, So many ways to kill people with Flames I’m starting to scare myself, Strong Female Characters, Varia - Freeform, Varia!Harry Potter, Voldemort!bashing, badass female characters, cloud harry potter, manipulative!Dumbledore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 39,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28595424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Swan/pseuds/Miss_Swan
Summary: “Let’s make a few things clear; I am Mad Hatter, your new Officer, and I will be cleaning the Cloud Division from top to bottom. I will be meeting every single one of you and if I learn something I don’t like, you will be dead at best.”
Relationships: Harry Potter & Blaise Zabini, Harry Potter & Hermione Granger, Harry Potter & Luna Lovegood, Harry Potter & Neville Longbottom, Harry Potter & Reborn, Harry Potter & Severus Snape, Harry Potter & Theodore Nott, Harry Potter/Xanxus, Luna Lovegood & Harry Potter
Comments: 237
Kudos: 810
Collections: There are no words for this beauty





	1. Of Severed Ties and Withered Lilies

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER : I do not own Harry Potter or Katekyo Hitman Reborn.
> 
> UPDATE LOG  
> ~17/02/2021~  
> Just changed the summary... I just wrote this part and it is so badass that I couldn’t resist :)  
> ~21/02/2021~  
> Summary change again; it’s shorter now.
> 
> -MS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDITOR LOG  
> ~10/03/2021~  
> Changed how Lily awakened her flames to avoid redundancy.

_August 31st 1974_

“Have you spoken to Slughorn about an apprenticeship yet?”

He shook his head and Lily looked up at him with a raised eyebrow that was clearly meant to convey the message why ever not? He shifted uncomfortably.

“Well I didn’t exactly have the time with those bullying dunderheads refusing to leave me alone.”

His best friend grimaced

“Sorry... It’s just–I know how important this is for you; how managing to convince Slughorn is your best shot at becoming a potion master.”

“It’s fine, really. I just wish Potter would get tired of me already. He’s like a five years old tugging on my non-existent pigtails.”

Lily let out a hum of agreement with laughter bubbling in her eyes, before she turned serious.

“I’ll try to make them back off, or at least try my hand at distracting them.”

Severus pointedly ignored the warmth blooming in his chest in favour of teasing his friend.

“Shouldn’t be too difficult, all things considered.”

He deserved that, he thought as he rubbed the sore spot on his upper arm.

“Shut up.” Squeaked his friend, mortification clear in her voice even as a poppy red blush bloomed over her cheeks.

Her embarrassment was quickly forgotten though when he rubbed his arm and made a big show of being mortally hurt.

He felt a soft smile paint itself on his lips as she fell prey to a bouts of helpless giggles.

“Hey Lily?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

Lily gave him an understanding look.

“What are friends for, if not protecting each other from dunderheads and morons?” She leaned into him a bit more and slipped a hand in his. “It’s you and I against the world, Sev, remember?”

Severus grinned at his best friend, feeling lighter when she smiled back just as brightly. 

He was glad they were able to fall back into the easy friendship they had shared for years despite the strain on their friendship caused by their sorting in rival Houses.

“You and I against the world.” He repeated as they turned a corner and started down a new street, believing every single word.

They were walking home after a long day in the park. It was the last day of their summer holidays and soon they would be back at Hogwarts for their third year and they had decided to spend it together before they had to go back to the prejudice of their school that tried to tear their friendship apart at every turn. 

They had been walking for all of ten minutes when they came to a stop, standing hesitantly at the entrance of the alley they often used on their way home from the parc despite their parents warning them to avoid such places like the plague.

Home to shadows and darkness that was barely warded off by the flickering street lamps placed at an irregular interval along the crumbling sidewalk and surrounded by tall looming building that were in an obvious state of disrepair, the alley was a handy shortcut that allowed them to cut the time it took them to make their way home.

Let it be said that they were capable of a minimum of caution and wouldn’t normally take this route at this hour; this time of the day when the smothering embrace of obscurity and the moon and stairs were almost upon them and the last embers of the setting sun were dying out, making the shadows grow, stretch until they were warped and deformed.

Today however they had lost track of time and Severus was anxious to make it home as the threat of his father’s wrath loomed over him like an ever present shadow intent on making even his happiest moments tense.

Which is why after another beat of hesitation they stepped into the alley, their pace quicker than usual in their hurry to be back in a part of town that was lit properly.

They were about halfway through when a voice rang through the area, breaking the tense silence and causing them to freeze as their survival instincts went haywire.

“Well, well, well… what do we have here?”

“Looks like fresh meat to me, boss.” Said a guy with spiky green hair as he sauntered towards them with arrogance ingrained in his every gesture and action.

“We have found our entertainment for the night, boys.” Crowed the one who seemed to be the leader of the gang considering the deference the rest showed towards him. The tall lanky teen had a bright purple and green mohawk. His darkly mocking and predatorily chuckle echoed through the area as they tried to back away, and Severus cursed the Statue of Secrecy as he resisted the urge to draw his wand.

Gathering every ounce of courage he had in his body he placed himself between Lily and the approaching threat and brace himself for the incoming fight. 

The odds were not in their favour, but he’d be damned if he merely stood there and did nothing.

“Leave us alone, you insipid dunderheads.”

“Or what? What is a midget like you going to do to stop us if we decide to rob you of all you have, kill you and have a bit of fun with the lady over there before killing her as well?”

Unfortunately it was around that time that fear gripped his heart, robbing him of his wit and sarcasm.

“I–I… ”

“That’s what I thought; nothing. There’s nothing you can do to stop us.” Taunted the leader as he closed the distance between them predatorily.

He felt his panic rising in his throat as they backed away but the teens just kept approaching.

No, no, no! This couldn’t be happening! There had to be something he could do! 

He had to fight back! 

_I will protect Lily even if it’s the last thing I do!_

Then his world exploded in purple flames.

_September 15th 1974._

Jotting down a few sentences for her Potion homework, Lily looked up when her best friend brarged and caught a glimpse of a bright grin on her friend’s face. It was so different from the way Severus schooled his features; keeping them carefully blank all the time. She hated Tobias for making his son think he wasn’t allowed to showcase his true feelings; never knowing what would set off the drunken man. By the time she’d met Sev, his bastard of a sperm-donor had nearly succeeded in convincing her best friend that emotions were a weakness. Sev had been on the verge of cutting himself off from his emotions using a bastardised version of an occlumency technique his mother had taught him before she died.

She was starkly reminded how much taller than her he had grown over the past year when he scooped her out of her seat and twirled her around.

“I did it!” He yelled as he put her back on the ground.

“You got the apprenticeship? That’s great!”

Her future potion master grinned impossibly wider.

“Well, kinda, not really. But this is even better! Slughorn is too old to take on an apprentice, but he’s seen my talent so he gave me an official letter of recommendation and promised to get in contact with a few of his colleagues to set up an apprenticeship with one of them.”

Once they finally calmed down enough to stop acting like hyperactive puppies, Lily rested her head on Sev's shoulder and smiled.

“I’m glad you’re finally getting what you’ve always deserved, Sev. I really am.”  
  


_March 25th 1975_

“So Snape, I heard you got an apprenticeship with one of Slughorn’s friends.”

Trying to keep the panic away at the fact that he was currently getting cornered in an isolated hallway of the dungeons, Severus arched an eyebrow, giving the three seventh years a blank smile.

“I did. Your point?”

“Well you see Severus, Slughorn was so convincing in his endorsement of you that Fumes dropped my brother in favour of teaching a half-breed like you. That won’t do at all.” The sneering Ravenclaw pulled his wand out as Severus backed away.

* * *

“Tell me half-breed, how will you become an apprentice if you don’t have hands, huh?”

“You know I won’t go down without a fight.”

“All the more fun for us then. I’ll enjoy breaking you, Snape.”

Lily froze, her blood like ice and lead in her veins. The world came into sharper focus than she’d ever seen before. Her friend was in trouble and she would save him even if it killed her. 

One moment she was standing at least twenty feet away from her best friend. 

She felt more than heard bone and cartilage get crushed beneath her fist.

The next she was pinning a teenager three times her size against the wall, her wand digging in the soft flesh under his chin. Though that might be unnecessary seeing as the guy seemed to have been knocked out by the green electricity coursing over her whole body. 

The guy she had punched was slumped against the wall, blood running down his face from a nasty head wound as well the ugly mess that had once been his nose.

The third seventh year was lying in his stomach, limb stiff and unmoving for him breathing. Severus was standing over him, dark eyes alight with a purple glow.

She cast a quick spell that secured conjured ropes around the two unconscious teens and dashed over to her best friend. They hugged tightly, holding onto each other desperately. She could feel Severus shaking uncontrollably against her.

“I’m fine.” Whispered Severus hoarsely, and didn’t exactly ring true in her ears. He pulled away slightly to lock eyes with her. “I’m not hurt, you saved me just in time, Lils.”

_June 15 th 1975_

“Stay out of this… _Mudblood_ …” 

Gasps rang around him as he struggled to shake off the hazy feeling that overtook his senses. When he finally succeeded, he couldn’t stop his eyes from widening. What the bloody hell?! This wasn’t what he was going to say! 

He wanted to stop her from getting in trouble on his account; tell her that he wasn’t worth a detention for hexing the three Gryffs to hell and back, like he had no doubt she was planning to do!

Looking around to see who could’ve possibly made him do this his eyes fell onto Evan Rosier who stood in the crowd that had gathered to watch his humiliation. The older Slytherin had a smirk on his face and a satisfied glint in his icy blue eyes as he put his long black wand away.

He turned towards his best friend and something inside him roared in indignation and pain at the sight of the heavy tears rolling down Lily’s face even if she glared down at him angrily. If looks could kill, he would already be long dead. Fortunately his best friend hadn’t mastered that particular skill yet–he had no doubt she would eventually figure out a way–so he had an opportunity to fix things.

“Lily, wait! Lily, please, I don’t know…!” _What happened_.

“Sev…erus… I just…. I don’t want to talk to you right now. Leave me alone!”

After a few more rounds of taunting, three quarters so-called Marauders–where the hell was Remus?–left and the crowd dispersed, Rosier approached him and held out a hand to help him up. He ignored it pointedly and rose to his feet brushing off his clothes as he glared at Rosier.

“Why the bloody hell did you do that?”

The blue eyed teen smirked and cocked an arrogant, mocking eyebrow in his direction.

“This farce has gone on long enough, Severus. It is long past the time to drop your pet Mudblood.”

He barely pushed down the angry animalistic snarl that was forming in his throat and closed his eyes as he battled his newly awakened instincts that were straining to escape the iron tight control he had on them.

It took some effort but eventually he managed to 

“I swear to Merlin, Rosier, one day I will kill you in the most slow and painful way possible.”

Rosier smirked wider and they locked eyes for a second. It was all he needed to establish a temporary connection between their minds. When he was met with resistance, he used his purple flames to multiply the strength of the spell.

He eventually managed to slip past the teen’s defences and what he saw made his blood burn with unholy rage and he pulled away from the memories just in time to catch the last of the older teen’s speech.

“… now that you are free from the Mudblood’s clutches you should join us sometime.”

“Of course.” He said blandly, forcing himself to smile at least somewhat convincingly.

Rosier smirked in satisfaction once more before stauntering away like he owned the castle and all the land surrounding it.

Severus grit his teeth as he was forced once again to wrestled his instincts into a semblance of control even as they screamed and screeched and roared at him to fight, to hurt and even maim the one who was idiotic enough to mess with what was his; with his territory and his friend.

Unfortunately, now was not the right time to go on a rampage, no matter how great the idea sounded at the moment; he had to fix things with Lily, and fast.

He took a deep breath in an effort to set his priorities straight and quickly evaluated the situation before starting a rough first draft of a plan of action, keeping his main goal in mind all the while.

_July 17 th 1975_

_“Ah do come in Mr. Rosier.”_

_“You wanted to speak to me Professor?”_

_“Ah yes my boy. Please, take a seat.”_

_“What can I do for you, Professor Dumbledore? I am not in trouble I hope?”_

_“No, of course not my boy. I do need something from you however.”_

_“What is it?”_

_“This afternoon James Potter will bully Severus Snape near Lily Evans. I already made sure of it. When she intervenes, I need you to imperuse young Severus and make him call her a Mudblood.”_

_“What? Why?”_

_“Because I need Lily Evans on my side and the best way to do that is to have her marry James Potter; in order for that to happen her friendship with the Snape boy must be… terminated. And it will give your Lord the opportunity to recruit a talented potion master.”_

_“Why should I do it? Why shouldn't I inform your precious followers and the sheeple that you asked a student to imperious another student?”_

_Dumbledore’s twinkling baby blue eyes flashed a broken shade of amber-orange and Rosier’s face went pale and slack._

_“You will cast the Imperius curse on Severus Snape and order him to call Lily Evans a Mudblood; you will not tell anyone about our conversation. Have I made myself clear?”_

_“Y-yes Professor.”_

Lily exited the pensive, landing harshly on the stone floor of the Room of Requirements, and scrambled away from it, scared out of her wits.

“What the bloody hell was that!”

“Creepy, right?” Drawled her best friend, looking as unsettled as she felt.

She nodded her head jerkily.

“Holy crap that was messed up. I can’t believe he actually ordered a student to cast the imperius curse on another student. It’s lucky you were able to break into Rosier’s head, otherwise the bastard would have succeeded in ending our friendship.”

“You believe me, then?”

Hearing the pure relief, frightening vulnerability and fragile hope tinging her best friend’s voice she turned to look at him, noticing how his shoulders were hunched as if he was carrying the heavy weight of shame and regret for something he didn’t even do! That wouldn’t do; she wouldn’t let her best friend self-destroy for something entirely out of his control!

She approached him slowly as she had learned was best when dealing with Severus–or any victim of physical abuse really–and drew into a tight hug. 

“I believe you, Sev.”

At first her best friend tensed but after a while he melted into her embrace, practically radiating relief.

“So what’s the plan, Sev? How are we going to deal with this?”

“Well we’ll have to fake it until we make it. We can’t be seen being friendly in public. And… I hate to say this but you’re going to have to start dating James during our seventh year at the latest.”

She snapped her head up and stared at him hard, barely stopping herself from glaring as she reminded herself that this was her best friend talking.

“What?! why?!”

“Lils, you know Dumbledore will stop at nothing to break our friendship apart. He’s been trying for years and he almost succeeded today by forcing a student to use the imperius curse on me. I’ll say this again; I loathe myself for asking this of you, but who knows what the man will do next? What if the man’s next scheme ends up breaking your mind until you become another one of his mindless puppets? It’s not a risk I want to take, because what happened by the lake, gave me a small taste of what it would be like to lose you. If it were to ever happen again, for real this time, it would destroy me.” Sev glanced at her in utter desperation. I’m scared, Lils. Terrified of myself right now. So bloody fucking scared that if I lose you, there won’t be a magic school in Scotland anymore. Only a charred crater, result of my mindless rampage to get you back or avenge you.”

She nodded thoughtfully, sadly seeing where he was coming from and wholeheartedly understanding the need for caution. Thinking back on the countless instances that had put their relationship in peril, she could now see that the majority of them reeked with the Headmaster’s influence.

Suddenly Lily felt lost as the line between real and fake blurred dangerously.

How was she supposed to live when everything she experienced had to be questioned and validated? How was she supposed to trust herself and others when there would always be a lingering sliver of doubt that would make her question what was real and genuine, and what had been so heavily orchestrated that it was practically fake?

“This is some messed up shit. It’s like he only sees the people around him as pawns.”

Sev hummed in agreement as he guided her gently so that her head was resting on his shoulder. Lily drew a shaky breath as she took the offered opportunity and soaked in all the comfort she could get from the familiar contact. Her best friend wasn’t necessarily a touch oriented person but when she needed that kind of comfort he always noticed and always pushed his discomfort aside in an effort to make her feel better.

“There is a very good reason why most Slytherins call him the Chest Master–and not as a compliment. Did you know that for the greater good was Grindelwald’s slogan during the first wizarding war?”

“Really? How is it that nobody knows about this?”

“My guess is that the younger generations are kept in the dark about it while the older generation can’t do anything about it or simply don’t care.”

Lily decided to spare her friend from the indignant rant that was already forming in her brain and moved onto more pressing matters.

“What’s the plan, Sev?” 

“Ah yes, back on track; you have to date James.” Severus chuckled at her disgusted grimace. “Hey, you never know, you might end up liking or at least tolerating the dunderhead. He’s not… that bad with those he considers his friends. And I’ve heard he’s honorable and respectful towards women.”

He sounded so reluctant as he spoke those words that she could help the chuckle that escaped her lips.

“That’s high praise coming from you, Sev.” She teased with a giggle, finally pulling back from their hug. Then she became serious as she realized how hard this would be for him. “Are you sure you’re going to be alright with dealing Potter if we ever have to bring him in on our plan? Will you be able to put your differences aside when interacting with him?”

“Yes.”

The steely unyielding determination she could see glinting in his dark gaze, the certainty lacing his voice and the stubborn jut of his chin conveyed with stark clarity just how serious he was on the matter.

“I would do anything to protect what’s mine; to protect you. Anything.”

_February 14th 1977_

Lily entered the Room of Requirements, collapsing on the couch and pulling off her high heels with a sigh of relief. She groaned in pain as she massaged her aching feet.

Why did she decide wearing heels to a valentine dance was a good idea again?

Severus looked up to from the large book in cradled in his lap and stared at her in a way most would label as impassive and blank, but she knew her best friend better than anyone and she could see the concern–for her–hidden in the depths of the deep dark pools that were his onyx eyes.

“So? How did it go?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again as she hesitated, deciding to take a moment to think about her answer.

“It went… well, really. All things considered.”

“And Potter?”

She smirked in amusement at hearing the hint of possessiveness in his tone.

“Well… he’s not as bad as I thought he was. So there’s that at least.” She grimaced slightly. “Still too braggart and arrogant for my tastes, though.”

“That bad?”

“Not really, it’s just sometimes I wished he would listen instead of talking and he wouldn’t.”

“I’m sure he’ll… mature sooner than later.” 

She snorted at her friend’s awkward attempt to comfort her.

“Thank you Sev.” _For being there, for caring, for protecting me._

She couldn’t help but smirk when he blushed.

_March 15th 1977_

Lily grinned at James as he regaled her with a story about how his adoptive father Charlus got trapped in his adoptive mother’s main greenhouse. It was the latter who had rescued Charlus from a patch of Devil’s Snare who had become particularly possessive of the man. Hearing how his mother Dorea had admonished the plant as one would discipline a puppy and ordered it to give ‘her human’ back was hilarious and she couldn’t help but laugh.

The last year had been very hard for her boyfriend.

Fleamont and Euphemia Potter, James’ biological parents, had been killed in a Death Eater attack during the summer and James had been blood adopted by his father’s cousin Charlus Potter and the man’s wife, Dorea Potter née Black. Apparently Dorea had put her newly adopted son through the wringer when she learned about his attitude and bullying. James was forced to sincerely apologize to every single one of his victims in person. Even Severus had received an apology and that had been a great source of blackmail; both boys had been blushing furiously and searching their words awkwardly.

Anyways, whatever Dorea had done had changed James’ attitude immensely and now she was actually enjoying his company instead of tolerating him.

She was drawn out of her thoughts when she noticed eyes on her. Her breath caught and she felt butterflies flutter around her stomach when she saw that James was staring at her with an intense expression. The boundless amounts of fondness and–dare she say it–love was obvious in his hazel eyes and in his smile.

She grinned at her boyfriend and pecked his lips, moaning quietly when the hazel eyed wizard deepened the kiss; James was a great kisser.

“Did I ever tell you that I love you more than anything in the world, my Lily-Flower?” He murmured passionately, tucking a stay curl of her auburn hair behind her ear in an impossibly gentle gesture. 

In that moment she started falling in love with this incredibly kind man who hid behind the facade of a tough bully.

Hmm–maybe this whole dating thing wouldn’t be so bad after all.   
  


_July 31st 1980_

Lily stared into baby blue eyes as she cradled her precious daughter in her arms carefully. She wondered idly if she would have green eyes like hers or brown eyes like her husband’s. 

Her daughter yawned as she blinked her eyes sleepily, making her laugh. She was so tiny and perfect and beautiful and delicate… she could gush about her daughter for days on end without lacking the words to do so. 

“Have you decided on a name?” Asked the mediwitch as she bustled around the hospital room; cleaning everything up.

She shared a loving look with James and came to a decision as she stared into the hazel eyes of the man she had come to love more than anything in the world.

“Hazel. Her name is Hazel Potter.”

_  
October 31st 1981_

Lily heard Voldemort climbing the stairs felt panic run up her spine. As the self-titled Dark Lord approached the nursery she knew her last minute protections wouldn’t be enough; the monster that masqueraded as a man was too powerful. She knew deep down she would die tonight, but she would do everything in her power to insure her daughter didn’t meet the same fate.

As she tried to push down the panic in order to think more clearly, she remembered the strange power she had awakened a few years earlier that allowed her to protect herself and other and harden things around her. She closed her eyes and dove deep within herself trying to find the source of the green lightning and upon finding it she acted entirely on instinct as she put a hand on her daughter’s forehead and transferred the strange lightning into her little girl’s small body. Her eyes widened when her pale cyan and dark red magic followed suit, pouring into Hazel’s core and mingling with her daughter’s own dark red, bright golden, pale cyan, deep silver and dark indigo magic.

Just as Hazel started to fuss, the whole process was over. She pulled her hand away and noticed there was a bleeding wound in the shape of a lightning bolt on her daughter’s forehead. Her heart ached at the fact that she had to hurt her precious little princess in any way, but she knew it was necessary. Better she be wounded and alive, than dead.

She kissed her forehead and hugged her one last time before placing herself between the cradle and the door.

By the time Voldemort burst into the nursery, she felt horribly drained, empty and weakened–it felt like she was dying, really–and it took all of her will to stay upright and conscious.

She didn’t bother begging for her daughter’s life, knowing deep down–almost instinctively–that the power she had given Hazel would protect from all threats. 

So she didn’t give the bastard the satisfaction of hearing her beg; not for her own life nor for the life of her child.

Instead she simply stared at the pathetic excuse of a man in front of her square in the eyes and faced death with her head held high. 

“Bring it on, you bastard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE COLOUR OF HAZEL’S MAGIC DOES NOT REPRESENT HER FLAMES BUT SOMETHING ENTIRELY DIFFERENT!!
> 
> For those who are wondering, there is no horcrux in Hazel but the others exist.


	2. Safe in the Eye of the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clouds, leaves, soil, and wind all offer themselves as signals of changes in the weather. However, not all the storms of life can be predicted.
> 
> David Petersen

He hopped off the private jet he had been trapped in for the past eleven hours and onto the tarmac of one of the Triad owned airports in the UK. There was a slight polite smile firmly in place on his implacably serene face, but even he would admit that said smile was slightly strained around the edges as a result of his barely restrained annoyance.

After taking a moment to compose himself he crossed the paved expanse of tarmac, his pace sedate, and climbed into the Flame enhanced car the Triad had arranged as his transport for the duration of his stay British soil. Its driver was a Cloudy Mist so at least the trip to the house he had rented would be quick; no one drove a car better than someone who could break the laws of reality on top of multiplying the speed of the car as well as their reflexes and all their senses to an impossible degree.

Leaning back into the comfortable expensive leather backseat of the car, he almost wanted to frown as he thought back on what had brought him to England in the first place.

His latest assassination target was a heavily corrupt politician who had been blackmailed and bribed by the Triads consistently over the past few years but had outlived his usefulness. The man had run away from his hometown in Japan the second he caught wind of trouble coming his way. For some reason, the man owned a property in a cookie cutter town in England, and more precisely in Surrey, so he had decided to hide in the cookie cutter neighborhood most people wouldn’t think twice about checking when looking for someone like his target. 

Unfortunately for his target and fortunately for him, he wasn’t what one would classify as most people; he was the Strongest Storm alive, the Triad’s neutral enforcer, the Greatest Martial Artist in the world and an extremely talented assassin; and most of all he was smart and had all the connections and contacts he needed to find his wayward target. 

The man would die sooner than later; he would make sure of it.

* * *

Hazel kicked a stone as she walked back from school under the glaring midday summer sun. She had been walking for an hour already, and it would take her another one to make her way back to her relatives’ house. Usually it wouldn’t take her so long, but Little Whining’s local school was closed because of a rat infestation, forcing the mayor to negotiate with the neighboring town so that all the students of Little Whining Elementary could attend their school.

The Dursleys refused to let her inside their precious and blessedly _normal_ car to bring her to and from school so she had to walk two hours in the morning and as many in the afternoon to get to school and back. Without water, food or even a decent coat during the winter.

Unfortunately since she was given chores until the very last minute she arrived late more often than not.

She let out a sigh of relief when she saw a familiar wooded area; it would give her some well needed shade. She would even be able to get her hands on some water to drink, since there was a small river going through the forest. There was also a small pond where she could bathe and soothe the bruises she had gained from her cousin bullying her!

Grinning as she entered the forest she set off towards the pond.

* * *

Fēng was in an isolated clearing going through his katas like he usually did in the morning to warm up and stay in shape and alert when he got the feeling of being watched. Without missing a beat he fell into the loose stance he favored when dealing with unknown threats because it allowed him to spring in motion in a millisecond… only to relax slightly when he spotted who it was and realized that the person who was watching him with wide green eyes that were filled with awe and respect for his skill was an eight year old girl.

She was petite and her pale golden skin contrasted sharply with her tousled shoulder length hair that was as dark as raven wings. 

Further scrutiny revealed that she was too thin and too pale to be considered anywhere near healthy. Add to that her busted and bleeding bottom lip, the black eye slowly darkening around her left eye as well as the nasty bruise covering her entire right cheek and he got a picture that spoke either of grave bullying or abuse. Although taking into account the rags the little girl wore, the scar in the shape of a lightning bolt that looked like it had been carved into her forehead, the large hand shaped fading bruise he could spot on her shoulder and the too old look in her vivid verdant eyes, she was probably a victim of both systemic bullying and long term abuse and neglect. 

It made him grit his teeth and his serenely polite smile became slightly strained as he struggled to keep up his smiling facade instead of letting his anger show. As it was he had to fold his hands in his sleeves to hide his clenched fists–they would scare the girl and that was the last thing he wanted.

“Hello there, little monkey.”

Seeing as she had been discovered, the girl approached him cautiously and sat on a flat stone by the pond in the middle of the grove he had discovered a week ago–once he had used his Flames to disintegrate anything on the ground that could hurt his bare feet, it was perfect for practicing martial arts. He had always preferred the grass and trees as opposed to a dōjō, especially since the one closest to the house he was currently living in, was mediocre at best.

She scowled in irritation.

“I’m not little and you have no room to talk; you’re smaller than I am.”

Fēng raised a surprised eyebrow at the girl’s peculiar wording.

“Smaller but not younger?”

The little girl (because she really was a tiny thing) sent him a deadpan look.

“No toddler would be able to pull off the moves I just saw you do with such ease; if at all. Plus, you have… that look in your eyes that tells me you are older than you look. I should know, since I see it in my eyes every time I look in the mirror. And really, someone trapped in the body of a toddler is far from the strangest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I see. What is your name?” He asked, deciding to file that last comment away for later perusal.

“Hazel Potter.”

There was a fierce glint in her eyes; something that told him that the girl–Hazel hadn’t given up yet and that she may bend, but she would never break. Fēng let his smile widen into something slightly more pleasant than coldly polite, satisfied with the knowledge that the abuse she had been put through hadn’t beaten down her inner fire. 

“I am Fēng. Nice to meet you, Hazel.”

“Likewise.” There was a beat of silence before the child spoke again, her tone and eyes betraying great curiosity. “What are you doing?”

He barely refrained from frowning when the girl gave a barely perceptible flinch immediately after asking her question, as if she was usually forbidden from doing the aforementioned action and was scared she would be punished for ‘disobeying the rules’.

The implications caused his flames to emulate their namesake as they roiled angrily in tandem with his increasingly stormy thoughts at the fact that a child was denied their right to further their knowledge.

“I’m practicing my martial arts so I don’t become rusty.”

Hazel beamed at him, looking relieved by the fact that he hadn’t become angry because she was asking questions.

“Teach me?” Was said in such a hopeful voice that it blew all his reservations aside and he could feel himself nodding.

“I will teach you. I don't know how long I’ll be able to stay in England, however.”

“That’s alright.” Hazel straightened, a stubborn and determined glint entering her eyes. “I’m a fast learner.”

* * *

“How are you so good at this?” He asked in fond exasperation as Hazel went through a series of Brazilian jiu jitsu inspired exercises with remarkable ease.

It turned out Hazel was telling the truth; she really was a fast learner.

At first he didn’t teach the girl any kind of combat techniques, merely pushing her through some intense flexibility, agility, balance and muscle building exercises. He also taught her Chinese, Cantonese and Japanese; meditation and the fine art of wearing a mask of her own craft like a second skin; a shield that would protect her from the sheeple that she should only drop around those she truly trusted. His student had soaked in the knowledge like a dry sponge, her eyes wide and eager to learn more.

He was extremely surprised when Hazel did every exercise he asked of her flawlessly. If he didn't do any better and wasn’t as Flame sensitive as he was, he would’ve thought she was using some kind of Flame–Mist, Sun or Cloud perhaps–to make herself be more limber or something of the sort. Which certainly wasn’t the case since Hazel was latent, though he could feel she had a few flames that could be awakened at any moment. Which Flames they would be, however, he didn’t know. There was something blocking him from determining her Flame types, something like he had never encountered before, but the protection for lack of better words had a definite Lightning feel to it so maybe it was put there by one of her parents for some reason or another.

Then after determining she had made enough progress he started teaching her the basics of hand to hand combat; things like the basic stances, how to throw a punch without breaking your thumb, where to hit, useful pressure points, how to dodge, etc.

“I’m not sure…” His xuétú answered his question as she walked towards him while wiping her sweaty face with a towel. “I guess I’ve always been really limber. Have to if I want to fit in my cup–room…”

Fēng narrowed his eyes. He could’ve sworn Hazel was about to say ‘cupboard’. If that was the case, he really wanted to have a long due word with her relatives.

“You have a small room, then?”

He frowned when she shifted awkwardly, avoiding his eyes and fidgeting. She was fumbling with the hem of her shirt–that he bought specially for her because like hell he would let his student wear rags–with her left hand, and was in process of winding a curl of her hair around the index of her right hand.

“Yes… they say frea–that I don’t deserve anything better.”

They, he had learned, were her aunt and uncle, the biggest bigots and racists he had ever heard of.

“They call you freak?” He gritted out calmly–well as calmly as he could at the moment considering he hated that word with a burning passion. He had been called a freak more than once since awakening his Storm Flames because instead of being a hot-headed moron, he defied expectations by being a calm and composed man (most of the time). Apparently many found this unnatural.

“Err–yes. Always have… that or girl… didn’t know my name until I started school. They never wanted me and always hated me.” She muttered, and the resigned acceptance practically dripping from her tone caused his killing intent to become almost tangible.

Thankfully he was distracted from his stormy thoughts by his xuétú's next words.

“I think it’s because I’ve always been able to do… strange things.”

“Strange how?”

“Well… I was going to tell you after training, but yesterday I teleported onto the school roof when Dudley and his gang decided to give me a ‘last day of the school year gift’ by chasing me around the courtyard. I don’t know how I did it; one moment I was on the ground and the next I was on the roof.”

“Anything else?”

Hazel looked surprised that he wasn’t scoffing at her claims and gazed at him with cautious hope.

Then she turned pensive as she tried to answer his inquiry.

“Well… I did shrink that horrid sweater my aunt tried to force on me when I was five, and I accidentally turned my teacher’s wig a rather dashing shade of neon blue when I was about seven.” She trailed off impishly with a mischievous glint in her eyes that told him that there was nothing accidental about the incident.

He hummed thoughtfully. Yes, that definitely didn't sound like flames to him. The closest to it would be Mist flames, but the phenomenons his student described were too eclectic to be Flames. And she hadn’t said anything about seeing indigo mist during any of these instances.

“Were all of those instances intentional?”

“Erm… no. Some of them really were accidental, it felt like the–power I have inside of me–acts up on its own to protect me.”

Fēng nodded decisively. He would teach her how to use her power even if it wasn't flames. Since her abilities seemed to resemble Mist Flames the most and his mother and sister were Mists and he had watched as the former taught the latter, he had the experience he needed to teach his student this skill as well.

“Then I’ll have to teach you how to control your abilities etter.”

“You believe me.” 

While she said it as a statement it was clearly meant as a question and he inclined his head in affirmative.

“I am cursed to be trapped forever in the body of a toddler, Hazel. Why would your claims surprise me?”

“Point.” She muttered thoughtfully. “About the magic tutoring thing, when do we start?” She chirped eagerly and he chuckled.

“Tomorrow, little monkey. I want to ask a few people that have more experience with this kind of thing for advice first.”

She pouted slightly but in the end she reluctantly agreed to wait.

For the time being he had her go through the obstacle course one last time, at least for the day. He had built the course in the clearing for the express purpose of teaching her how to move around accidented terrains. It also required his student to do some impressive contortions and acrobatics to get past some of the obstacles, most of which she did without any issue. 

After running his student through a series of stretches, the Storm decided to call it a day and pushed a Sun infused water bottle in her hand in case she had any injuries that needed a bit of healing and he sat down next to her while Lichi sat in her lap.

They were silent for a while before Hazel spoke up.

“I found my birth certificate while cleaning the attic.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I found my full name is Hazel Lily Dorea Jasmine Sirina Potter.”

He raised an eyebrow at the extensively long name; it sounded like his student might come from nobility, since it was usually the latter who gave their children so many names.

“A very beautiful name, Hazel.” He said and repressed a frown at the way she latched onto the praise with the desperation of a dying man in the desert.

“I think so as well.” She said, beaming at him with pride shining in her jade green eyes.

Eventually Hazel had to go back to Mrs Figgs’ house where she was staying for the next two weeks because her relatives had gone to France yesterday and left her behind. The fact that she didn’t overtly seem bothered by it filled his heart with cold burning rage, so he started planning his confrontation with the Dursleys.

He would have to wait two weeks to put his plans into action but once they came back… well, they would regret everything they ever did to his apprentice.

He felt a wicked smirk tug his lips before he schooled it his features once more.

He knew just the right person to call to join in on the fun… he thought evilly before pulling out his Flame phone. 

_"Ciaossu Fon. You have reached Reborn, the World’s Greatest Hitman. What do you want?”_

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at his comrade’s dramatics.

“Reborn, how would you like to join me for some fun? I think you’ll find it’s right down your alley as well.”

_“I’m listening.”_

* * *

“Chaos. I’m in. I’ll be there in two weeks.”

_“Thank you Reborn.”_

Reborn ended the call and threw his phone onto the glass coffee table of his luxurious hotel suite. Then he tilted his fedora forward to shadow his eyes as he stared at the wall contemplatively.

To say he hadn’t been expecting a call from Fon was the understatement of the century. They hadn’t spoken in a year or two, even though they worked very well together before the Fated Day and the few times they partnered afterwards to accomplish a hit or a mission that required both their areas of expertise. They knew the other valued their integrity to not stab them in the back and based on that knowledge, they trusted each other as far as anyone in the underworld could trust and be trusted.

After the Fated Day, it was Fon who had helped him create his new identity. The Storm had never revealed his true name to anyone.

The fact that the Storm behaved the opposite of all the other insupportable brash and hot headed Storms he had the misfortune to deal with at some point of his life was probably the only reason that they got along so well. Fon and he were so similar, yet so different in the way they acted and used their respective flames; they differed in their temperaments and methods, but in the end it didn’t matter because they both always succeeded in any endeavours they had and always always achieved their goals. It didn’t matter that they were different on so many levels because the fact that they shared many similar traits made it so that somehow their strange relationship worked and that’s all that counted. 

They were comrades, they had fought side by side on many occasions.

Reborn would like to say that he knew the martial artist quite well, and the fiery cold thirst for revenge–for blood even–that could clearly be heard in the Triads’ neutral enforcer over the phone was… uncharacteristic coming from the usually calm and composed Storm.

 _Mio dio_ , even Fon’s current situation was so strange that it was on par with his usual level of chaos. Apparently the martial artist had to go to Surrey of all places to complete a hit against a wayward target and the day before completing it, he had met an _eight year old_ girl with strong abilities that resembled mist flames but weren’t, and promptly decided to teach her all he could. And now he was planning to deal with said girl’s abusive aunt and uncle and wanted him to join the fun of threatening them into submission so they would leave the girl alone (and give her a proper room because apparently the girl slept in a fucking cupboard and wasn’t that the saddest thing he had ever heard in his life. His father may have withheld food from him and hit him on several occasions but he had never locked him in a cupboard).

And apparently, Reborn still had the ability to scare people shitless even if he was stuck in the body of a toddler which was the reason why Fon had called.

The hitman grinned evilly at the chaos and terror he would reap upon those abusive civilians (conveniently forgetting that he acted the same way with Skull and so many others)

He couldn’t wait to meet the girl who Fon found worthy enough that he took the time to teach her his precious martial arts.

* * *

“Hazel, come here please.” Said Fēng, letting the pride he felt towards his student seep into his gaze as the eight year old girl stalked towards with an amount of confidence he had made sure was ingrained into her very being. “You have made enough progress with hand to hand combat that I can start teaching you more complex martial arts, especially those that involve weapons.”

Hazel’s face lit up with boundless enthusiasm and impatient excitement, and Fēng could see she was barely keeping herself from bouncing on the balls on her feet.

“Finally! I’ve been waiting for this moment for weeks!”

He let the ghost of an amused smile flitter across his face.

“Let’s start then, Hazel.”

* * *

Hazel took to martial arts like a duck takes to water, especially when said form of martial art required both the body and mind to be limber, flexible and nimble.

For the next two weeks Hazel became very familiar with the forest floor, and felt like collapsing on more than one occasion.

She never felt like giving up, however–even when it became obvious that she was crap at anything that involved swords and only passable at fighting with tonfas and staffs–because when she trained with her Shīfu and learned how to defend herself–how to stand up for herself–she felt alive for the first time in her life.

The only problem is that she had come to see Fēng as a father figure and as much as she wanted to receive proper hugs and hair ruffles from him… she knew it would never happen. The occasional cuddling session was good and all, but it wasn’t the same. 

Sometimes she cried at night mourning the missed opportunity to have an adult figure in her life and wishing she had met Fēng before he was cursed; cried for her Shīfu who, like her, was stuck in a body that was way too young.

* * *

Much to her pride and joy, once they moved onto short and smaller blades, Hazel quick discovered that she excelled in an Italian martial art involving stilettos blades that was called Paranza Corta, a Japanese martial art called Tantojutsu that revolved around the use of short daggers called tanto blades. 

She also had a perfect aim, which made throwing the aforementioned blades very easy since she rarely missed her target.

After she was considered advanced enough in those three fighting styles, her Shīfu insisted she learn tessenjutsu in case she had to attend a ball and couldn’t bring any other weapons. She showed quite some promise in that area.

* * *

Her mentor soon made the decision to stay mostly in Surrey for an extended period of time in order to teach her how to access her full potential. Fēng still had to leave occasionally do jobs for the Triads so during his absences she was allowed to crash at the new house he had hired a crew to build when it became clear that his stay would become more permanent than they first planned.

* * *

Hazel sat in the middle on a padded bench in the garden behind Fēng’s house. Her eyes were closed as she poured all of her concentration into accomplishing her current task. She was trying to levitate twenty metallic spheres simultaneously while making each of them dance in the air gracefully.

Under her Shīfu’s guidance her control over magic improved in leaps and bounds. She was able to harness her previously discovered ability to teleport to the point that she could do it silently and with very little effort. She could levitate small and large objects for quite some time and even turn invisible.

“Well done, Hazel.” She jumped, her focus breaking at the sound of her Shīfu clapping his hands; the spheres dropping to the grassy forest floor with a chorus of muffled thumps. “That was your last exercise of the day so I believe we are done for now.”

“Yes Shīfu.”

“Are you hungry?” At her shy nod and the subsequent grumbling of her stomach, her Shīfu smiled wider than usual, fond amusement dancing in his warm black eyes. “We should go somewhere and grab a small bite to eat then. You have earned it.”

* * *

After wandering around the town with her Shīfu on her shoulder, she stopped in front of a quaint tea shop with an authentic-looking tudor exterior that was called The Two Skylarks according to the winged navy blue and silver sign hanging over the sidewalk above the door.

They stepped through the door and the tranquil feel emanating from the shop washed over them soothingly. The interior was cosy yet distinguished with a low ceiling, dark cream silk wallpaper that looked so velvety soft she was hard pressed holding back from running the pads of her fingers along them, dark glossy floors partially covered with olive ornate rugs. Deep navy and silver bergère loveseats and armchairs as well as gold oak wood tables and upholstered chairs were scattered around the room and the fireplace.

“Hello! Welcome to my humble establishment. My name is Laurel.” Said the woman who was clearly the owner of the café as she came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her lacy apron. The pink eyed woman had russet hair streaked with grey and dirty blonde that was pulled into a tight bun, and the eyes of a woman who had reared up children and maybe even grandchildren and was all too aware of the tricks teens and children alike used to get into trouble or butter up their way out of it. “What can I get you, huns?”

Fēng was staring at the woman in shock and Hazel understood why; other than her (and even then she had commented on his height) this was the first time a civilian hadn’t commented on his current physical age upon meeting him.

“We’re not sure… this is our first time here.”

“Then take a seat and let me bring you our menu. I’m sure you’ll find something to your tastes.”

They did so, surprised when they saw there was a chair that was the perfect size for Shīfu’s toddler sized body.

“I'll have some treacle tart and a cup of earl grey tea, please.”

“Do you have any asian teas?” Asked Fēng still looking at the menu.

“Why yes I do! My Grans’ best friend was from Namimori and she was the one who shared her love for tea with me as well as the proper way to prepare it. I always have some in stock.”

Fēng nodded in satisfaction.

“Excellent. We’ll have your assortment of finger sandwiches of the day as they sound absolutely delicious; for dessert I’ve settled on your lemon and matcha pie with a cup of oolong tea on the side, if you would be so kind.”

“Of course, Huns~! One plate of sandwiches, one treacle tart and one lemon-matcha pie coming right up.” She said brightly fluttering back into the kitchen. “You’re lucky; the pies are fresh out of the oven!” The owner called over her shoulder.

She grinned, already liking the woman.

“Sounds great!”

* * *

After that day, they went back to the tea shop on more than one occasion and Hazel was quickly adopted by the owner as a surrogate daughter or granddaughter. 

The shop became her home away from home.

She spent most of her time not allotted to training at the Two Skylarks, and spent quite a few nights in the apartment above the shops, happy to avoid Mrs. Figgs and her menagerie of cats for as long as possible.

The small library in Laurel’s apartment became her favourite place and she devoured every single book lining the room’s sturdy shelves. Fēng had made it clear that regardless of what the Dursleys told her, she should never be scared of expanding her knowledge. Encouraged to learn and ask questions for the first time in her life awoke an almost obsessive hunger for knowledge that only many hours in the various libraries around town could ever hope to quench.

Knowledge was power after all.

* * *

Fēng kept a polite smile fixed on his otherwise impassive face as he sent another lackey to the ground permanently; even if he wanted nothing more than frown in annoyance. 

Apparently some low level Mafia Don had decided that the best time to confront him and force him into a guardian bond was when he was mostly away from the Triad’s main areas of influence.

The idiot hadn’t even taken into account the fact that he was a deadly force on his own or that as the strongest Storm alive anyone would be hard pressed to harmonize with him, never mind force him into a bond.

Incurable stupidic and idiotic morons; that’s what they were.

Kicking the closest lackey in the stomach, his smile widened slightly when the man coughed up some blood and bent over, clutching his stomach. 

Fēng immediately followed with a sweeping kick to the temple, infusing his attack without a small amount of his Storm Flames and watching with satisfaction as his opponent fell to ground. That one would never rise up again; his Storm flames had essentially disintegrated the man’s brain.

Glancing down, he fought a scowl of annoyance when he saw some blood had landed on his clothes, then shrugged.

Oh well; there was a reason why he mostly wore red–and it certainly wasn’t for esthetics or because of his Storm Flames. 

Turning around as he ducked yet another attack, he caught sight of a small body coming his way right before a very familiar voice rang through the air.

“Shīfu! Duck, quick!”

He did so on pure reflex, narrowly avoiding the blade the Mafioso Boss slashed where his throat had been moments ago. He cursed himself for allowing himself to be distracted, and could feel his eyes widen when a stiletto blade flew through the air above his head and sunk in the mafioso’s throat, nicking the man’s main artery. Seconds later life quickly faded from the man’s blue eyes as he bled out, and he collapsed to the ground, limp and unmoving, joining his lackeys who had all been taken care of previously.

He turned towards his student, dropping all masks and pretences; throwing all notions of composure and control in the face of the danger Hazel had been in moments earlier.

“Hazel!? What are you doing here? You could have been hurt, or worse, killed!”

His xuétú didn’t answer and ran towards him, picking him up. He was slightly surprised when she paid no mind to the blood staining his clothes and hugged him to her chest tightly. 

“I don’t care about me! You could’ve died! You could’ve died, Shīfu.” She cried in Chinese, sobbing uncontrollably. Fēng let her do so; she was eight and had just made her first kill after all. She was bound to be in shock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the ‘older than she looks thing; Flames are a manifestation of the soul so Lily literally transferred part of her soul to her daughter which Hazel absorbed. It had the side effect of making her more mature than kinds her age. Add to that the abuse that forced her to grow up so much faster and there you have it.  
> She still acts her age occasionally because she is nine but her soul is older than that.
> 
> Just to be clear, Hazel is not OP. She is really good if we take into account that she is eight/nine years old, because she’s taught by the best. But against a grown man who has experience, she would struggle, especially without her blades on hand.
> 
> And her talents don’t come out of nowhere : 
> 
> She’s a fast learner because it’s a survival skill that was essential at the Dursleys.
> 
> She is limber because she unconsciously uses her latent cloud flames and magic to improve it.
> 
> She had good aim because she has sharp eyes like Harry in Canon.
> 
> She is good at magic because Canon Harry Potter is extremely good at magic–patronus that can ward off a hundred dementors at once; crucio on his first try and casting lumos when his wand was a few feet away anyone?
> 
> Hope that clears things up :)
> 
> TRANSLATIONS  
> xuétú : apprentice, student
> 
> -MS


	3. To avoid Sunburns, befriend the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flower cannot blossom without sunshine, and a man cannot live without friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Xuétú = student, apprentice

It wasn’t until he met Fon’s student that he understood why the martial artist was so–dare he say it–fond of the girl.

 _She has talent, that’s for sure,_ he thought as he watched the lithe and nimble pre-teen go through the obstacle course Fon had built in his backyard with fluid grace. 

He felt his eyes widen when, as soon as she completed the course, she moved towards a field of targets, throwing knives and stiletto blades. Not once missing or faltering.

Of course there was still room for improvement. He would never settle for anything less than the best.

The Storm next to him was the embodiment of smug pride as he watched his student, and Reborn couldn’t help the fond smirk pulling at his lips. Fon looked… happy. Happier than he had ever seen him. Clearly this was good for him. Teaching someone; having someone to care for.

“Jasmine!”

The girl stilled mid-movement and stalked towards them gracefully. She showed no outward reaction to his size, but after studying under Fon it was no surprise.

“Reborn, meet my student; Jasmine. Jasmine, meet my colleague Reborn–”

“The world’s Greatest Hitman.” He finished, ignoring Fon’s barely restrained glare at the interruption with his usual smirk. “Chaos. Nice to meet you, Jazz.”

The girl grinned brightly and shook his hand, not even batting an eye at the knowledge that he was a hitman or that he had butchered her name. She even seemed pleased at the nickname.

“It’s fabulous to meet you as well, Reborn!”

He frowned internally, mourning the loss of this great opportunity for chaos but quickly recovered.

“Do you know any good restaurants nearby? I’m starving.”

* * *

As they walked down the street towards their usual tea shop, chatting merrily about everything under the sun, Hazel decided she liked Reborn very much. He had a dry sense of humour and a tendency for chaos she absolutely loved. Not only that, Leon, his partner in crime (literally) was adorable! 

They finally arrived at The Two Skylarks. “Laurel!” She cried happily, going to hug the woman who had become like a mother in the last few months. The motherly woman grinned warmly and hugged back. 

“It’s nice to see you again, sugarplum! Have you ever met my daughter?”

“I don’t think we have.”

“I’ll introduce you, then. Stacey!!”

“Coming mom!”

A young blonde woman barged out of the kitchen; stains of flour on her dark blue shirt, pink apron and cheerful round face. Her hands and hair were also covered in white powder and she was grinning brightly with traces of humour and laughter in her dark pink eyes. To be honest it kind of made her look like a hyperactive puppy.

“Stacey, this is Jasmine. Jasmine, this is Stacey, my daughter.”

The teen wiped her hand on her apron before shaking Hazel’s hand. Not that it did much good, considering its current state, but it was the thought that counted, right?

“Nice to meet you!”

“Ditto. It’s good to finally meet my little sister in all but blood.” Said the blonde with a wide grin that she returned with a slightly sheepish one of her own.

“Ah yes, your mother pretty much adopted me at first sight.”

Laurel came back out of the kitchens and grinned warmly.

“What can I get you today, huns~?”

“The mocha cake for me.” 

“And we’ll take our usual, if you would be so kind.”

“Of course huns! Coming right up.”

It didn’t take long for the food to arrive and they immediately dug in.

“So, Reborn, what brings to England?”

“Well…”

“Reborn is going to teach you how to shoot a gun, Jasmine.”

“… exactly.”

She looked between the hitman and the assassin, shot her Shīfu a _look_ to inform him that she had not been fooled by his coverup then grinned brightly.

“Great! When do we start?!” 

* * *

As the three of them walked back to his home, Reborn fell into step with him, frowning under his fedora.

“Chaos. Why the hell do you want to teach her how to shoot a gun, Fon?!”

“A low level Famiglia attacked me last week and Jasmine intervened. She killed a grown Mafioso at the age of nine, Reborn, and I fear I will bring more danger upon her. She needs to learn everything that has the potential to keep her safe.”

“ _Mio dio..._ ” He said with understanding tinging his voice. “I’ll do my best to teach her as much as I can then.”

“That’s all I’m asking for, Reborn. Think of it as a good way to practice being a tutor.”

“You do have a point.”

Jazz turned to them, frowning slightly.

“What are you two doing back there? Come on! I want to show Reborn around!”

* * *

He spent the next hour and a half teaching Jazz the basics of handling a gun before pushing her towards the target range and putting her to the test. He actually enjoyed the experience; Jazz was a very attentive and competent student who absorbed his teachings like a sponge in the middle of the desert.

Reborn couldn’t help but gape when Fon’s student hit the targets every time–even though in the end she only achieved about five bullseyes out of fifteen shots. 

Then he smirked and rubbed his hands in anticipation, black eyes gleaming with no small amount of chaos and mischief.

He truly had a feeling that this was going to be great!

* * *

He and Fon walked down Privet Drive until they reached number Four, all the while sneering at how identical everything looked. For someone like him, who lived for Chaos, this place was stifling as fuck and he couldn’t believe Jazz had survived living here and come out as chaotic as she did as proved by the fact that the both of them had successfully pranked Fon twice in the last two days.

They knocked on the impeccably white painted door and waited. Not two minutes later, a giraffe masquerading as a typical housewife answered the door, fake smile curling ugly red lips set in a face caked with makeup. Said lips were pursed unattractively, making the woman look like she had eaten a lemon. Her prematurely greying blond hair was pulled back in a severe bun. A tacky apron edged with low quality lace was worn on top of a typical housewife frilly candy pink dress and a matching cardigan.

The fashion expert in him was shouting in outrage at this utter offence against all things fashion. 

“Well hello little ones!” She cooed–sounding every bit a fake and plastic as the rest of her–much to their annoyance. “Are you here to sell cookies? You’ve come to the right place! My Dudder absolutely loves them!”

Not even two seconds later he had the gratification of watching as the vile woman’s smile dropped when Leon transformed into a gun in his hand and she found herself staring down the barrel of said gun.

Reborn’s eyes were cold under the brim of his fedora and his trademark smirk deadly as he stared down at the pitiful excuse of a woman despite being physically a two year toddler.

“Let’s have a little talk, Petunia Evans.”

* * *

Fēng stared at the woman who had abused his student with cold hidden disdain, disgust and rage. He had to remind himself not to kill her on the spot–no matter how easy that would be; it would only take a small amount of Storm Flames directed towards her brain and her pathetic life would be ended permanently–because otherwise Hazel would end up in an orphanage since he couldn’t take her in without exposing her fully to the Mafia before she was ready to enter that world.

 _The bitch doesn’t know that though_ , he thought sadistically fighting back a vicious smirk before frowning as he noticed that the woman was about to scream for help.

“Make a single sound and your life ends here and now. Is that understood?” He stated placidly, his eyes cold and his smile too full of teeth and sharp around the edges. When the bitch nodded his smile widened the slightest bit and if the woman’s poorly muffled whimper was any indication, he had become even more terrifying than before. It was a pleasure of his to send many packing with a single smile. “Good. Now let us inside.”

Looking around, he was disgusted but unsurprised to find that not a single picture in the house had Hazel in it; only his xuétú's beach ball sized pig of a cousin. His glare intensified when they passed by the cupboard under the stairs–the same cupboard they were undoubtedly forcing his student to sleep in. 

Finally they entered the living room and he wrinkled his nose at the tacky interior design of the room.

“We’re here to talk about your niece.”

“What about the Freak? What has she done now?”

“You and your husband will leave _our protégé_ alone and give her a proper room or die a long drawn out and torturously painful death. Is that understood?”

“You-you wouldn’t dare harm a perfectly normal citizen like me for that Freak! You will get caught and rot in prison for the rest of your lives!”

“Thank you for the reminder woman; you will also stop calling her derogatory names. And I can assure you; we won’t get _caught._ ” Reborn spat, somehow putting all of his disdain towards the concept of the World’s Greatest Flame users getting caught into one word. “We are the best at what we do, which happens to be hits and assassinations. Killing you would be child’s play.”

Reborn’s dark aura filled the living room, promising violence and leaving no place for doubt. Fēng hid a vindictive smirk behind his sleeve; he could almost see the woman’s pathetic life flash before her eyes.

“Now do you promise to respect our rules or should we get rid of you and be done with it?”

“N-no need! We will leave the Fre–Potter alone and give her a proper room, I swear.”

Suddenly Vernon barged into the house and waddled his way into the living room. The man looked ready to piss himself at the deadly intent filling the room.

He and Reborn exchanged hidden smirks and moved to leave after sending the walrus a pair of twin glares that had him turn deathly pale. 

“We’ll leave you to explain to the walrus how things will be different from now on. Do as we say or you’ll lose everything you are, everything you love and everything you have, even your lives.”

* * *

Hazel spent the next month and a half perfecting her shooting technique with Reborn’s help. The man had tried to bully–err prank her at first.

It quickly devolved into the prank war of the century.

Both sides were forces to be reckoned with; Reborn had years of experience in the art of chaos and Leon as his accomplice, while Hazel had her powers to aid her in all manners of pranks. Said pranks ranged from turning Reborn’s hair bright purple on Fēng’s suggestion all the way to sticking him upside down to the ceiling for a whole day when he tried to wake her up with a defibrillator. The former had led to Reborn yelling indignantly and pouting for a whole day while Fēng sent the picture to one of his contacts. Whoever it was, was apparently delighted to have any shape or form of leverage against the hitman

She made sure to take loads of pictures as well because one never knew when they would need blackmail on someone.

Another good thing that came out of the prank war was that her control over her powers improved to previously unseen levels. She was well on her way to becoming proficient in the art of bending time, space and reality to her will.

The hitman had become her tutor in maths when he realized her teacher was an asshole who hated her with a burning passion ever since she turned his hair blue. Reborn took this opportunity to teach her observational skills as well. Mainly the art of reading people. She was pretty good if Reborn’s praises were anything. Fēng’s teachings about crafting masks and wearing them until it became a second nature required to learn to see and recognize the facial expressions first. Her Shīfù often dragged her to a local dinner for a session of people watching.

* * *

It was one of those rare times when quiet mornings were a thing. There were no pranks, or chaos.

Only companionable silence at the crack of dawn as she and Reborn shared a cup of coffee at the kitchen counter. While her temporary tutor showed her yet again how to disassemble and clean a glock. Say what you will about the guy, he was a thorough teacher and would settle for nothing less than perfection.

She took a sip of her coffee. The small hitman had gotten her utterly addicted to the nectar of the gods also know as espresso coffee after imparting his knowledge on how to prepare it properly. Apparently she had a taste for bitter things. Shīfu had scolded Reborn for weeks afterwards, but she was glad that she would have something to remember Reborn by after he left.

“So Shīfu told me you wanted to start tutoring.”

“I do.”

She hummed thoughtfully and leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm as she propped her elbow on top of the glossy cherry wood surface between them. Nestled in her sleep mussed hair Leon shifted slightly in his sleep with the sudden movement before settling down again.

“Hmm... yup–I can see it working.”

Reborn smirked and gave her a side glance.

“Here’s an exercise for you; I give you a certain type of student and situation and you try to think of a strategy to teach them.”

She snorted, but her whole focus was still on his small yet nimble hands that were cleaning every single piece with minutious meticulosity. The systematic process was incredibly graceful in its own way and she couldn’t help but feel entranced.

“Lazy much? ‘Cause to me it looks like you want me to do the work for you.”

Much to her disappointment, Reborn didn’t rise to the bait and merely arched an eyebrow, placing yet another small piece of his gun on the kitchen towel next to him once he was done cleaning it.

“Meh–why not?”

“Snob arrogant heir?”

“Tort-training for sure, but not to the point that it’s abuse. He would need to know his place and know the harsh realities of the world he grew up with even if his parents coddled him during his childhood and teenage years.”

“Alright, what if… I have to teach a good for nothing civilian how to be a Boss?”

“Persuasive methods, for sure. Nothing like you tried to make me go through. He wouldn’t know anything about your world, and forcing him to accept that world will only break him or make him hate it all the more; make him want to mess up or even destroy the family.” Declared Jazz as she pet Leon. “And for the love of gods–don’t you dare abuse your students or I will learn about it somehow, hunt you down and make you wish you weren’t born. I won’t have a bully as my friend.”

Reborn was silent as he put his prized weapon back together with deft, efficient movements. Not messing up or faltering even once.

“Who said I wanted to be your friend in the first place?”

She scrutinized him with serious intensity; vivid verdant emeralds meeting cold coal chips. When she finally broke the silence and spoke, her voice was soft.

“Everyone needs a friend, Reborn. _Everyone_.”

* * *

“This is the last time we’ll see each other for a while, Jazz; I have been hired for my first job as a tutor that starts a month from now and I have some loose ties that need tying until then.”

“Oh.” Was all she could get out. “Will you stay in touch?”

Her heart sank when the hitman shook his head.

“As much as I want to… it wouldn’t be safe.”

“I… understand. So–I guess this is where we say goodbye?”

“It is, but before that, I have a gift for you, Jazz. Leon helped me with it.”

She grabbed the wrapped box and grinned as soon as she had a peek inside.

Nestled in the dark foam interior of the case was a beautiful CZ75 1ST gun decorated with beautifully detailed jasmine flowers. 

She looked up to see that Reborn had tilted his fedora to shadow his eyes and for once the movement looked almost insecure.   
  
He cleared his throat looking uncomfortable under her scrutiny and looked away.

“I have deemed you good enough to receive your first gun. Continue to practice whenever you can.”

“It’s beautiful.” She managed to utter after staring at the gun in a mixture of shock and awe.

She was well aware that this was Reborn’ way to tell her without words that he trusted her skills and sense of responsibility.

Enough so that he was willing to give her a gun of her own without being there to supervise her.

She picked him up and hugged him to her chest tightly, grinning when Reborn let out a long suffering sigh, but let her do as she pleased. 

“Goodbye, Reborn.”

“Goodbye, Jasmine.”

Hazel couldn’t help but feel strangely empty as she watched Reborn walk away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t hesitate to leave a comment if you have any questions and worries about this fic; I’ll be happy to give you some answers :)
> 
> Small warning : Read the comments at your own risk. I discussed my plans with a few people down there so if you want to avoid spoilers at all cost, don’t read them.
> 
> -MS


	4. Wish upon a star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a reason Blacks love stars so much that they name their children after them.
> 
> In which Hazel is as much a Black as she is a Potter, and takes her first step towards realizing just that.
> 
> Xuétú = apprentice, student

Today would be an excellent day, Hazel was sure of it for quite a few reasons. First it was a Friday and who didn’t like Fridays? Second, her Shīfu was set to come back from a job today which was just the greatest thing; he had been gone for a week and she had missed her mentor so very much. Third, her cousin had stayed home because he was "sick" (yeah, right~) and without a "leader" the other spoiled brats that formed his gang were a band of bumbling baboons, so she wouldn’t be bothered today. Fourth, the day ended with gym class and the teacher was also sick so they had a substitute teacher for the day who was utterly incompetent in anything relating to physical effort which meant they had a free period.

  
Hazel startled when she heard clapping and fell to the ground midflip as a result of her concentration breaking. She had decided to go through the series of acrobatics she had come up with on her own during another of Fēng’s absences. After learning the few acrobatics her mentor had taught her while imparting his knowledge of martial arts onto her, she had fallen in love with acrobatics and stunts that required her by now famed flexibility.

Apparently she had been seen despite her best efforts.

The green eyed martial art apprentice looked up from her prone position on the blue mats she had set up in an isolated corner of the gymnasium and was met with limpid sky blue eyes flecked with pale silver and cyan. Said eyes were set in a tan heart shaped face framed by tawny curls interspersed with dark caramel and blonde strands.

“You’re like, really good at this!” The girl–that she recognized as Jade Rockvell, the leader of the gymnastic team that was called the Balance Brigade or BB for short–chirped brightly. “Hey! I’ve got an idea! Why don’t you join the BB?”

“What about Dudley? Aren’t you scared of what he’ll do to you when he learns you’ve invited me into the team?”

“That– _brute_ doesn’t scare me anymore. You shouldn’t underestimate the strength of girl power and gossip. If he thinks for one second that I will let him do what he did to me again, I’ll turn the school against him in less time than it takes to say the word _sorry_.” Spat the tawny haired spitfire spitefully.

“Meh–why not? Though I have to warn you that I have martial art practice every day between six and eight in the morning.”

The only reason she had accepted was that Jade had never bullied her and tried to defend her multiple times. The girl was eventually convinced to let it be after Dudley bullied the gymnast relentlessly and beat up the girl _hard_. Jade had bruises for a week afterwards. 

Plus, it might be good to branch out into something that wasn’t martial arts because even she would admit that she was _a bit_ obsessed with her training.

Jade beamed at her with a wide grin that nearly had her do a double-take.

“Great! Swing by the BB homeroom for your uniform whenever you’re free and then we can see what else you can do!”

She grinned back just as brightly and nodded.

“Will do.”

* * *

For the next year she and the rest of the team trained side by side relentlessly and won competition after competition. They got to know her and she in turn learned all about their quirks and hobbies and dreams for the close and far future. For the first time in her life she knew what the fuss about having friends her age was all about. Friends that were _hers_ ; friends that she would protect with all her might just like they protected her to the point that they would come to her rescue in a heartbeat, no matter what kind of trouble she was in. They were really that tight knit as a group.

The ones she was the closest to in terms of friendship were Jade–who loved lemonade and thriller movies, and had dreams of becoming a journalist–and Rosalyn Riverbridge, with her pale strawberry blonde and warm hazel eyes with flecks of gold if one looked close enough; who just like Hazel couldn’t live without coffee and wanted to be a professional dancer and gymnast. Both girls had quickly become close friends; something she intended to enjoy to its fullest.

Then there was Lou Messier, a girl native from Quebec who was a year above them and had long glossy black that fell straight and stopped a few centimetres under her shoulder blades, porcelain skin and deep expressive blue eyes. She loved blackberry cheesecake and had plans to become a lawyer. She had this funny habit of drawing caricatures of the teachers in the marges of her notebooks when bored and always ended up fiddling with the tails of the cherries she often ate for lunch; it wasn’t rare to find a pile of cherry tails with a neat knot in their middle by the time the bell rang.

Last but not least, Alisson Bellemore was a petite russet teen one year below them with freckles and light green eyes whose only flavour of crisps she liked was ketchup. She loved horses and owned a poney who she visited every two weekends, driving out to the stable where Pearl–as the poney was called–resided. 

Dudley tried to protest against her new popularity, but he was quickly shot down when nasty rumours concerning him and his gang started running around the school. Added to the fact that he had a tendency of beating up and bullying everyone he didn’t like for some reason, well, he and his gang very quickly became the school’s outcasts.

She shivered as she thought of her cousin’s fate. Say what you will about Jade, but despite her angelical looks she could be a little devil in disguise when provoked, and a true force to reckon with.

She was glad to be the girl’s friend.  
  


All was not roses and rainbows, however. Hazel was unable to trust them completely. There was a slight yet constant fear niggling at the back of her mind. A traitorous little voice that kept telling her that her new friends would turn their backs to her as soon as they became bored.   
  


Years of bullying did that to a person. No child could spring back from that kind of treatment from his or her peers without any consequences. 

Constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop was exhausting, but what was she to do about it. It’s not like there was a miraculous cure to trust issues caused by years of bullying; of scorn and mocking and beatings from Dudley’s gang and some of the older kids.

All things considered she thought she was doing pretty well.

* * *

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage the winners of the regional junior gymnastic competition... all the way from Evergreen Elementary... the Balance Brigade!”

Fēng clapped with a proud smile as Hazel and the other gymnasts of her team walked up to the stage and onto the podium, and bowed at the cheering and clapping crowd as the judge slipped a heavy gold medal around her neck.

He was glad his xuétú had found something she liked that wasn’t martial arts. Something that allowed her to be more of a child.  
  
Hazel had even made some very protective friends her age because of her newfound hobby.

* * *

As she exited the building where the competition had taken place, Hazel was accosted by a tall black haired woman clad in a fashionable pantsuit and practical heels. She had a stern air about her that was reinforced by the tight bun her hair was pulled into, but Hazel could also see the underlying kindness hiding underneath the woman’s non-sense demeanour.

“Ms. Potter? My name is Rebecca Times, three times olympic champion. I’ve been a trainer for over twenty years and never have I seen such talent.”

“Thank you, Ms. Times.”

Times gave a slight yet warm smile as they shook hands.

“Tell me, have you ever thought of leaving the team to become a solo gymnast?”

“Err… no? Should I?”

“That’s what I would recommend. The world needs to see your talent!”

“I’ll think about it. In the event that I want to go solo, how would I go around to doing that?”

“Well you would have to find a trainer and a sponsor.”

She gripped her shoulder bag (that had infinite space inside thanks to her powers) tighter as she tilted her head thoughtfully.

“How would I go about doing that?”

“Well… I was wondering if you would allow me to become your trainer?”

* * *

Being a solo gymnast made her feel more free than the BB ever did. 

She was able to create her own choreographies with the help of Rebecca and choose which competitions she participated in.

The woman was a bloody menace when it came to organization and planning.  
  
Thanks to Rebecca there were sponsors throwing themselves at her, and she earned a lot of money that way even if she was only ten.

Rebecca quickly found a place in her heart and became something akin to an aunt, and one she actually liked at that. It proved that family wasn’t determined by blood, what with Fēng being a strange father figure to her while Laurel took the spot of a mother in her makeshift family. Stacey was her cool sister who taught her how to skateboard while Reborn was a mix between her awesome uncle and big brother. 

  
Luckily the team wasn’t angry or jealous that she was going solo, but excited and supportive and proud instead.

It made warmth bloom in her heart, especially when Jade squealed and tackled her into a tight hug.

They had a sleepover to celebrate and as she laid on her camping bed between Jade and Rosalyn she realized just how lucky she was to have friends who would support her unconditionally through everything thrown her way.

For the next few months she was on cloud nine; she was free.

It was not meant to last however and like all shooting stars eventually she fell; eventually she was forcefully brought back down to earth.

* * *

“I must leave soon, Hazel. The Triads have been asking unwanted questions and wondering where I disappear to whenever I don’t have a contract. I fear it would only be a matter of time some of the more immoral Triad members figure out where it is I go and then you would be used as leverage against me in an attempt to put a leash on me at last. Or worse they would attempt to recruit you and I don’t want you involved in this mess anymore than you already are, at least not until you are old enough to understand everything there is to the crime world.”

Even though her eyes were filled with unshed tears, Hazel nodded with an air of resigned acceptance, scuffing her leather boot clad toes into the dirt as she put all her weight on her right leg.

“I understand… I knew it was coming.”

“That doesn’t make it any less painful, little one.” He countered knowingly. “You are allowed to feel, especially around those you can trust.”

“I know…” Hazel managed to choke out, picking him up and hugging him tightly. 

* * *

Hazel sighed sadly as she hugged the tiny assassin for the last time, sitting on the steps of the patio that looked over the backyard. She stared up at the night sky, hoping to find the answers she so desperately needed up there, and her eyes widened minutely when she caught sight of a shooting star. Wiping her tears she straightened.

 _Time to make a wish, Hazel._ She thought wryly, putting her toddler sized mentor back on the ground as she closed her eyes, unconsciously gathering her power right under her skin. _I wish Shīfu was an adult so I could hug him properly._

She heard a gasp and her eyes snapped open only to close them again with an embarrassed squeak of utter mortification while turning around hurriedly when she saw her _adult_ mentor lying on the floor looking utterly confused. Her almost naked Shīfu who was barely covered by the torn remains of the clothes he had been wearing while in his toddler form. 

As if answering to her embarrassment, her power swirled around the room and her Shīfu like an eager puppy and transformed the torn fabric into a bigger version of Fēng’s ruined clothes.

The first thing she did when her Shīfu was dressed was to tackle the man into a tight hug, relishing in the fact that even in his shocked state Fēng wrapped his arms around her. She closed her eyes and basked in the feeling of safety and warmth surrounding her before she passed out from the exhaustion of accomplishing such an incredible feat.

* * *

Fēng stared at the little girl in his arms in shock; stared at his adult sized hands and body in utter amazement, unable to believe that his student had accomplished the impossible and turned him into an adult. 

He looked down at his chest and grit his teeth; the pacifier was still there. It looked like even Hazel wasn’t strong enough to break the curse.

Even if this was only temporary, Fēng would be forever grateful towards his xuétú for allowing to be back into his adult body at least once before he died from the curse.

Rising to his feet gingerly he almost fell over, destabilized by the sudden height difference. It was only his ingrained martial arts training that allowed him to quickly regain his balance. 

He glanced down at the unconscious girl who didn’t seem to be in pain and instead looked quite peaceful and angelic, reached out with his flames to make sure his observations were correct and determined that Hazel was exhausted, but in no immediate danger of dying or being permanently hurt.

“Let’s put you in bed, little one.”

Moving to his student’s room away from the Dursleys, he tucked Hazel in, making sure that the blanket was pulled up to the girl’s chin, but when he tried to leave she latched onto his forearm and refused to let go, hugging it to his chest like one would cuddle a teddy bear.

He sighed in fond exasperation, but gave in and laid into bed with his xuétú. She instantly moved in her sleep so she could cuddle into his side, unconsciously seeking comfort from a proper parental figure for the first time in her life. 

Smiling softly, he soon gave in to his exhaustion and fell asleep.

* * *

Fēng woke up extremely late the next morning, surprised that he had slept so long when usually he was up with the sun. He was also very confused about why he was in Hazel’s room instead of his own.

He sat up gingerly to avoid a headache and stretched before looking down at his hands. Suddenly everything about the night before came back to him and he looked around searching for Hazel, only relaxing when he found her meditating on a large cushion near the window. Her eyes soon blinked open, and she sent him a beaming grin.

“You’re finally awake! That’s good, I’ve been worried since I was up twenty minutes ago and I spent way more energy than you did last night.”

He must’ve been more exhausted than he thought, then.

“I’m fine, Hazel; thank you for your concern. What time is it?”

“Sometime around a quarter past eleven. I’ve been meditating since I woke up, trying to communicate with my powers to figure out what exactly happened yesterday.”

“Did you find out anything useful?”

“During our conversation yesterday I saw a shooting star and made the wish that you would have your adult body back so you could give me a proper hug.” She explained with a blush. “Apparently shooting stars have an energy called cosmos that certain people–which apparently includes me–are able to harness. The power boost the cosmos energy gave me was enough to fulfill my wish… kinda permanently.”

“Oh?”

“Well… you can choose between your two forms now, which is really a good thing because I really don’t want the others to chase after me when they learn that you are now in adult form.”

“I agree. Anything else?”

“Well my magic made sure that anything that could go wrong with you having a new body wouldn’t be a problem ever, so it’s safe for you to switch back and forth between your two forms as many times as you want.”

“Very good to know.” He declared with his usual serene smile back on his face.

“Fēng? Can you please stay one more week, so that I can properly spar you and spend some time with you as an adult?”

“... alright. One more week and then I leave.”

“Thank you!”

He couldn’t help but let a small grin curl his lips when she threw herself at him and hugged him tight. 

* * *

The next week passed too quickly to her tastes.

They spent their time sparring, talking about whatever went through their heads, experimenting with her powers. Fēng had even decided to teach her how to cook traditional asian meals.

For one week she had the chance to experience what having a father-like figure was like and she would remember this time for the rest of her life.

Sadly it was soon time for Fēng to leave, and she couldn’t help but shed some tears while clinging to him.

She felt Shīfu slip a piece of paper into her pocket and looked up at him puzzled.

“If you ever need help in the domains of finances or information, call the first number and tell Viper that your name is Star and that I transferred my debt from that time in Berlin onto you. They'll be able to help. I also left you my number and Reborn’s if you ever need anything, alright?”

She nodded reluctantly and looked at her mentor with hope shining in her eyes.

“You will visit some day, will you?”

“I will. As soon as the waters have calmed I’ll be able to see you again. In the meantime, just like Reborn I have a few parting gifts for you.”

“You do? What are they?”

“See for yourself.” He replied with a grin, handing her two beautifully carved wooden boxes.

She opened the first and largest box and grinned at the set of beautifully crafted blades she found inside. Most of them were long and thin, wickedly sharp and decorated in such way that they could be used a hairpin or a hatpin if the situation required it. The rest were daggers of various sizes.

“These are beautiful, Fēng. Thank you.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before turning her attention to the second box.

She soon discovered it contained a wine red fan painted with silver jasmine, lily and hazel flowers that were so detailed they seemed almost lifelike. She grinned, knowing that this could be as much an accessory as it could be a weapon since she had learned how to harden whatever she held in her hands with her power.

She fell in love with her new weapons instantly and made a promise to herself to use them well.

After thanking Fēng for the tessen and promising that she would keep up with her training, she tackled him in a tight hug and clung to her mentor’s shirt, very reluctant to let him go. 

“You have to let me go, little monkey. My plane will be leaving soon.” Sighed Shīfu, sounding every bit as reluctant as she felt.

She nodded into his chest as she held back her tears and released him from her octopus-like embrace.

“Goodbye, Fēng.” She whispered tearfully.

“Goodbye, Hazel Lily Dorea Jasmine Sirina Potter. May we meet again one day.”

She chuckled wetly even as she watched him walk away, trying to ignore the numb emptiness; the cold gaping hole tearing into her soul.

* * *

The following months trickled by sluggishly. Hazel felt despondent and while she kept up with her training, she was unable to be happy about anything now that her only father figure had left. 

* * *

Jade didn’t know what to do! She tried everything from surprise parties to sleepovers. She had given her best friend a box of her favourite chocolates, invited to watch a movie at the drive-in, bought her an endless pile of books that looked interesting.

Hazel looked so depressed nowadays! It was like there was a cloud of gloom and sadness hovering above her green eyed friend’s head. She had explained that her mentor who had taught her martial arts had to leave for some reason or another and while she understood where Hazel was coming from, her friend’s mentor wouldn’t want her to wallow in her depression like this!

Jade looked up at the sound of footsteps coming her way and greeted her best friend with a grin and an enthusiastic wave.

“Hazel! How are you today?” She said and couldn’t help but let a minute amount of the concern she felt seep into her voice.

For the first time in months, Hazel gave her beaming smile as she hugged her tightly.

“I’m feeling a lot better today! We should go to the Two Skylarks! I haven’t seen Laurel since forever!”

And just like that she had her best friend back. Maybe the chocolates really had helped heal Hazel’s wounded heart after all. 

* * *

Somehow her relatives had learned about the prize money she earned–though she really shouldn’t be surprised; all her competitions are televised and it was only a matter of time until they discovered that the winner won an actual reward. Even for people as stupid as her relatives.

“Why didn’t you tell us that you were earning money from sponsors, girl?”

She barely looked up from her homework and gave her uncle a passing look heavy with condescension that conveyed expertly just how she felt about the man.

“What I do with _my_ hard earned money is none of your concern, _Mr. Dursley_. It is my business and will remain that way.”

As predicted her fattest relative turned a _charming_ shade of puce as his features twisted into an ungly sneer.

“You will give us the prize money!” 

She couldn’t help but cross her arms defiantly as she stared down at the pitiful excuse of a man despite being smaller than him by at least two heads.

“And why, pray tell, should I do that, _Uncle_?”

“How dare you! We took you in with the goodness of our hearts and this is how you repay us–”

She tuned out the walrus as an absolutely devious idea struck her like a bolt of lightning; it was the kind of plan that Reborn would’ve encouraged with great glee, his black eyes bright with mischief and chaos.

“You know what? You win, Uncle. I’ll deposit the money into your account.”

She turned around and walked out the door, leaving her gaping Uncle behind. 

* * *

Viper did not jump when their phone rang.

They did not.

The default ringtone made them raise an eyebrow however; they personalized the ringtone of all their contacts so they knew who was calling. It wouldn’t do to be caught unaware because they didn’t know who their interlocutor was. 

The default ringtone meant that someone unknown was trying to reach them. It also meant that Viper needed to murder someone for not informing them there was an unknown poking around for Viper’s personal number.

“Time is money; do not waste mine.” They said dryly as they picked up the call. 

“Viper, right?”

They raised a brow under their hood at how young their interlocutor sounded, as well as the lack of innocence that could usually be found in a child’s voice the girl’s age.

“Yes.” 

“I’m Fēng’s apprentice; he transferred the favour from that time in Berlin that you owe him onto me and I’m calling to cash it in.”

“Myu. Name?”

“Sirina.”

“Sirina…?” They demanded impatiently.

“Just Sirina. But if you insist, you may call me Sirina Star.” 

“Mou. Alright Miss _Star_ , what can I do for you?”

“I am currently on the verge of becoming a victim of child exploitation. I’ve apparently become one of the best gymnasts of my league and I have a lot of sponsors. ven if Fēng threatened them for me, my relatives are extremely greedy and have it in their heads that they can force me to give them _my_ hard earned money. I would usually kick their arses into submission but I have the feeling that I’m currently being watched by some unknown party so I’d rather not do so. Fēng told me you have multiple masteries in various domains relating to accounting so I figured you would be the best person to help me.”

“Mou. I am.”

“Great! Let’s get to work then shall we?”

* * *

In the end she managed to come to an agreement with Viper who promptly took charge of her finances. In exchange for half of her meager earnings–at least in comparison to the exorbitant fees the miser usually charged if her Mentor’s grumblings were anything to go by–as well as forty percent of the money the Miser made her as her account manager, Viper had quickly set up an account for her where the money was deposited, while only making it seem like the Durselys were receiving it. Though the fact she had promised to send loads of pictures of Reborn stuck in ridiculous situations as an aftermath of their prank war (including the one of the hitman with purple hair which had Viper cackling delightedly) to the information broker had sweetened the deal.

Because of this her relatives were actually in debt due to their reckless spendings that was supposedly at her expense.

Best. Revenge. Ever.

She couldn’t wait to see their faces when they found that out. 

* * *

A few months before turning eleven, Hazel quit gymnastics.

She was starting to feel restless; there were too many rules, regulations and the choreographed routines stopped her from feeling entirely free. The pressure of the crowds didn’t help the matter.

Rebecca was sad to see her go, but didn’t put up much protest against it. When Hazel asked her coach why that was, the russet haired woman gave her a warm hug and calmly explained that she had seen it coming; that she had noticed that Hazel seemed less and less enthusiastic and comfortable with every competition she participated in.

They parted ways with a tight hug, smiles on their faces and an invitation for tea once a week at The Two Skylarks.

Then a few months later her life took an abrupt turn. Was it for the better or for the worst? It was too early for her to tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going out on a limb here; I have no idea how gymnastic competitions work, or anything like that. I just really wanted have something for Hazel that would allow her to have some friends her age and act her age as well, instead of always training in martial arts. If you found some inconsistencies, or know more about gymnastics than I do, feel free to correct me!


	5. Francisco the Snake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One often finds friends in the most unlikely places.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDITING LOG
> 
> ~06/03/2121~  
> The chapter had been split in two. Changes have been made Laurel&Hazel situation for the sake of Laurel making sense as a character who isn’t cold hearted to the point to send Hazel back to the Dursleys all the time when she sees Hazel as a daughter.

Hazel was _bored_. So utterly Bored in fact that yes, the word really did deserve a capital letter in this situation.

She had woken up early this morning and had snuck out of the Dursley residence after a healthy breakfast to avoid the farce that was her cousin’s birthday. 

She had been wandering around Surrey for the better part of three hours, and after visiting Jade and Rosalyn in their respective homes and going by the library to borrow an impressive collection of books for the week that were stored safely in her shoulder bag (which she had managed to render unnoticeable for anyone but herself with her powers), she was dying for something else to do.

Twenty minutes later she was still at loss about what to do to cure her boredom when she passed in front of the local zoo and decided; why not? It wasn’t like she had anything better to do. Besides she couldn’t remember the last time she had visited a zoo. 

Easily paying the entrance fee she entered the zoo and walked around at a sedate pace. She took great amounts of vindictive amusement in imagining her giraffe of an aunt, her walrus of an uncle and her pig of a cousin trapped in one of the enclosures.

Once her hunger made itself known quite insistently with the assistance of a chorus of grumbles coming from her stomach, Hazel headed towards the picnic area and made quick work of the lunch she had the forethought of packing in her backpack. It was nothing too extravagant; merely a small selection of ham, egg, chicken and tuna sandwiches, a bag of crudities, a fruit salad and a bottle of juice. For dessert she treated herself to a tiramisu and salt flower caramel flavoured ice cream cone at the ice cream stand. 

After that all that was left to visit was the reptile house. As soon as she entered, she was surrounded by the voices of what felt like a hundred individuals with sibilant accents. It took her only a few seconds to realize that the voices belonged to the snakes trapped in the vivariums. 

Truthfully she was less shocked and surprised than she should’ve been by that realization. Then again she vaguely remembered talking to a snake while she worked in the backyard at the Dursleys. The memory was very blurry for some reason however. 

The sight of a chameleon who looked startlingly similar to Leon lounging on a bright green leaf in one of the terrariums sent a pang of longing bloom through her whole being.

She stopped in front of a terrarium. There was a boa constrictor trapped inside. The poor snake was hissing sadly about how much it missed its home country and how it was planning to go back to Mexico as soon as it escaped their cage.

She was about to answer, hoping that like Reborn her ability extended to actually talking to snakes and not only understanding the reptiles.

Sadly she was shoved to the ground by her _lovely_ cousin before she could do anything more than open her mouth.

“Get out of my way, _freak_!”

Ah fuck! How the hell did she forget that the Dursleys were planning to go to the zoo for Dudley’s birthday?

Narrowing her eyes angrily as she nursed her scratched palms and bruised shoulder with her power, Hazel willed the glass of the boa’s cage to vanish. She hid a vindictive smirk behind her sleeve when her cousin fell into the snake’s enclosure while said boa constrictor slithered out of its cage.

§Well hello there. Has anyone told you how gorgeous you are?§

The boa constrictor let out a hissy laugh and slithered towards her until its nose was touching her hand. 

As soon as they made contact, the snake’s darker scales that formed a gorgeous pattern along its spine faded to a dark shade purple that contrasted sharply with the boa’s otherwise light greenish scales and its eyes turned bright glowing violet. Not only that, the snake also shrunk until it was small enough fit in her palm if it curled up tightly.

§It’s an honour to meet you, amiga.§

* * *

Hazel sat on the ground of the reptile house, utterly unaffected by the chaos surrounding her. Following her latest stunt the reptile house had quickly turned into a war zone, leaving everyone too busy panicking about the fact there was a snake on the loose and a boy trapped in the former’s cage to notice the thirty centimetres long snake wound snuggly around her forearm.

§Well I believe Mexico is way too far for you to reach without assistance.§ She declared quietly with an amused chuckle. §What is your name?§ 

§Francisco§ Hissed the snake warily.

She grinned in delight and scratched Francisco’s head, making her new friend turn into a puddle of boneless goo. 

§Nice to meet you, Francisco. I am Hazel Potter.§

§Likewise… if you please, may I stay with you, since Mexico is so far away?§

As much as Hazel wanted to say that this was the weirdest thing she had ever experienced, talking to a snake who had shrunken to more than a fifth of its original size when it touched her was nothing too unusual. 

Hazel had been trained by a martial artist who was actively involved with the Triads and Hitman who thrived in chaos and mayhem. She could change the colour and size of objects, she had figured out the art of teleportation before she turned nine with Fēng’s guidance. Doing the impossible had always been her thing. 

§I wouldn’t mind the company,§ She acquiesced readily. §The times I am forced to live with my relatives does get terribly lonely. My only request is that you avoid my relatives’ notice lest I get into trouble. In fact, you should hide right now; Uncle Vernon is coming our way.§

Hissing in delight, Francisco slithered into her pocket right before her uncle–who had turned an unflattering shade of puce–grabbed her arms roughly and dragged her towards the exit before manhandling her into the car.

* * *

Hazel was playing a card game with herself, trying to ignore the sound Vernon and Dudley gorging themselves. Petunia was eating at a much more sedate pace, trying and failing to emulate an aristocratic woman or something. In reality the way she ate reminded Hazel of an unnaturally picky bird, though the only bird she could associate her aunt with was a vulture. 

“Dudley, go get the mail.”

Her cousin grunted in stubborn disgruntlement.

“No. Make the Freak do it.”

She stiffened but resolutely ignored the insult lest she do something rash like murder him. And since she had the feeling of being watched again, doing that would only bring trouble her way. At least that’s what her instincts were screaming at her.

She caught Vernon sending her a wary glance before he seemed to regain his resolve.

“Girl! Go get the mail.”

She didn’t bother answering and skidded towards the door, more than happy to escape the disgusting spectacle of her relatives eating.

Hazel picked up the mail that was piled on the entrance carpet and riffled through it. She almost dropped the letters when she saw that there was a letter addressed to her, with the address on the back written in dark green ink and with a beautiful flowing calligraphy read _Hazel Potter– The Cupboard under the stair, Number 4, Privet Drive, Surrey._

Her usually impassive features twisted into a displeased frown. 

She was not stupid enough to even think of bringing the letter addressed to her into the kitchen. Looking around for a place to hide it she grinned when Francisco poked out of her sweater and grabbed the letter in his mouth before slithering down her body, and slipping it under her cupboard’s–no, _the cupboard’s_ (it wasn’t hers would never be again)–door. 

She had been put back in the cupboard a week ago after her stunt with Francisco. The only reason she hadn’t fought it was because she had the feeling of being watched and her instincts were screaming at her that it would be unwise to draw attention to her in any way right now. It wasn’t that bad; she’d mastered the skill of expanding spaces with her powers so the cupboard was very comfortable. She had also borrowed a few dozen blankets from Laurel’s house and built a nest in the middle of the expanded room that she had then padded with a dozen pillows. There was a compulsion on the door that made the Dursleys ignore the fact that the inside of the cupboard was bigger than it was supposed to. 

That didn’t mean she hadn’t retaliated in any way however. Reborn had taught her that sometimes a warrior’s weapon of choice was subtle chaos and untraceable pranks, and she had taken her friend’s teachings to heart. Thus the Dursleys had been the victims of an immeasurable amount of pranks day and night. 

Hazel had even used her power to take away any desire they had of punishing her for the pranks, which were subtle enough to not draw the attention of her watcher or watchers.

Hazel would usually crash at Laurel’s, but the closest thing she had to a mother had _forgotten_ again. It had started about a year ago; sometimes she would black out without warning and find herself in the Dursleys’ front yard, and when she went back to the tea shop, the woman she considered a mother wouldn’t remember a thing about her. It usually took Laurel a week to shake off whatever caused those memory lapses. Other times she would fall asleep in her room at Laurel’s and wake up at the Dursleys. 

The first time it happened had been terrifying; she had come home, extremely confused as to why she was suddenly back at the Dursleys when she had made the decision to stay with her adoptive mother indefinitely. Only to be faced with familiar pink eyes empty of recognition and a polite smile the tea shop owner usually reserved for her customers. Her reaction had been run away, hurt and confusion warring in her heart. The Dursleys had acted like nothing had changed; as if she hadn’t been missing from their household for the past month or so.

One week later Laurel had called her in a panic, wondering where she was.

The same thing happened when Laurel tried to file for adoption. Thrice. The requests never went through and any further inquiry was met with empty smiles and a total lack of recognition from everyone involved. Similarly every time someone – be it teacher or parents of her friends – tried to report the Dursleys on suspicions of child abuse, nothing happened. Two teachers and one nurse had resigned–or been fired–and disappeared after trying to help with her less than stellar situation.

Hazel had eventually figured out that every time Laurel tried to involve the authorities, she would forget. She had thought that convincing her mum to let it be would solve the problem, but it was evidently not the case. Thought that may be explained by the fact it coincided with the time she started getting the feeling of being watched. Which meant that the people who continuously messed with her mum’s head were in town. Whoever it is probably tried doing the same trick with her mind no doubt because nobody would only take care of half the equation. She vowed to make whoever it was pay if they ever crossed paths.

Either way it meant she would be staying with the Dursleys for the next week or so. Even if she and Laurel had put some measures in place for what they called forgetful episodes, she’d rather stay away, because while the current Laurel knew about her through pictures and letters written to herself, her mother didn’t _know_ her. That hurt more than she was willing to admit.

She shook off those depressing thoughts and grinned when Francisco slithered back up her body, and she scratched his scaly head as a reward for his help.

§Thanks Francisco§

§Always a pleasure to be of assistance, amiga.§

She would read the letter later, but going to the cupboard right would be more than suspicious. It was best to wait until the evening. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly couldn’t resist. Harry–or Hazel in this case–adopting the snake who escaped the zoo has been on my mind for months if not years. 
> 
> Also the whole memory thing isn’t really Dumbledore’s doing... well partly actually. To make sure Hazel stayed in Privet Drive he planted a mole in the police corps on top of Mrs. Figgs. The mole who was ordered to do whatever it takes to keep Hazel with the Dursleys, makes sure that the Dursleys don’t get in trouble with the authorities so when he sees the adoption forms, he takes care of the problem, but he’s a bit stupid and arrogant so when he finds out it wears off, he keeps trying to obliviate Hazel and Laurel. He’s also too proud to inform Dumbledore of the issue and doesn’t want to disappoint the man.
> 
> -MS


	6. The Spy and the Assassin

Hazel sat in the cupboard under the stairs, Fabioso curled up in her lap, staring at the letter she held in her hands. Her mind was swirling with turbulent thoughts and emotions, the surprise and disbelief that inevitably came with receiving a letter from a school of _witchcraft and wizardry_ of all at things was promptly replaced by pure relief once she process the fact that she wasn’t the only one who could do strange; that she wasn’t a freak. Said feeling of relief that seemed to take an impossible weight that she hadn’t noticed before off her shoulders was warring with cold implacable anger mingled with a strong desire for revenge, considering that her letter had been addressed to her cupboard which meant that someone knew of her living conditions and wasn’t doing anything about it. The other option was that it was a magical process and considering the fact that her letter had obviously been censored at some point. There was nothing about where she had to go to board the train, where she could buy all the things required on the list, didn’t offer any introduction to the Wizarding World or how to write back to them. Which meant that at least one person had seen the address and knew that she slept and lived in a cupboard. Said person had decided not to do anything about it and while she could think of many reasons why the individual had taken that decision, none of which she liked, there were no valid excuses to justify the horrible crime of keeping a child in an abusive household or situation.

To make the matters even worse, there was a high possibility that whoever was behind this was the one who kept messing with Laurel’s head in order to send her to a known abusive situation.

She pursed her lips in thought as she pondered on her next move and decided that she would find a way to write back to the school.

She needed some more information.

Only then would she decide whether she wanted to attend Hogwarts or not.

Decision made, she nodded to herself and grabbed a wade of paper and a pen before writing down her request, making sure to use her best penmanship. First impressions counted for a lot after all.

* * *

_Dear Deputy Headmistress,_

_I write to you, humbly asking for a teacher to visit me at my home (Number 4, Privet Drive, Surrey) to explain Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, in more detail. I have quite a few questions about the establishment, mainly if this is a prank or if the letter is telling the truth. Moreover, it seems my acceptance letter is lacking some essential information as there is no clear information of where I should go to purchase such eclectic items or where the train station is._

_Thank you for you time and gracious consideration,_

_Hazel Lily Potter._

Minerva McGonagall stared at the letter in her trembling hands, her jaw slack and her eyes slightly widened.

She quickly made the decision of dealing with this the same way she did with any other student and didn’t bother informing Dumbledore that she had received a letter from his precious savior. The man didn’t deserve to know after he left her with those damn muggles who by the looks of things, didn’t explain anything to the poor girl. 

Running through her options Minervw decided that she would ask Severus to meet with Hazel.

He and Lily might have fooled Dumbledore when it came to their faked animosity but their little act didn’t work on her.

She nodded decisively, determination flickering in her eyes like the flame of a brand new candle.

Yes, Severus would be Hazel’s best bet for a proper introduction to the Wizarding World.

Decision made, she walked over to her fireplace and threw a pinch of floo powder into it.

Around a minute later Severus answered the floo call, his hair bedraggled and his eyes still blurry with the haze of sleep.

“What do you want at this inordinate hour, Professor?”

“You can call me Minerva, Severus, you know that. You haven’t been my student for years now.”

Severus grunted non-comitally.

“The reason for your call?” He snapped impatiently.

“Can you come through? It would be better if I could talk to you face to face?”

Severus nodded sharply and ended the call without another word.

The potion master stalked into her office exactly fifteen minutes later. If she was to be honest he looked eerily similar to an offended, wet, disgruntled and puffed up cat. He was still wearing his pyjamas which were–much to her hidden amusement that forced her to hide a laugh lest she offend him even more–a shade of red with thin gold stripes. For a man who was known for his undying house pride, he sure did rock the colours of the House of the Lions.

“What do you want, Professor?” He grumbled, throwing himself into a chair across from her.

She decided not to comment on the formal form of address this time and merely handed the letter to her fellow teacher.

“Here, read this.”

* * *

Severus leaned back in his seat, staring at the black lettering penned neatly across the sheet of paper; the penmanship elegant and flowing in a way not many children could achieve.

“What do we do about this?” 

“You should go and meet her.” Minerva paused, letting that sink but pushed on before he could retort. “That’s why I called you here. You’re the best option, I know it; you know it. You might have fooled the Headmaster because he is a blind old idiot, but your little tricks never worked on me.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

The feline animagus teacher shrugged, and Severus could see she was fighting the urge to eye his pyjamas with barely hidden laughter in her eyes, but refused to be embarrassed. The pyjama set had been a Christmas gift from Lily in their seventh year, and he would honour her memory by wearing it as often as possible despite its horrid colour.

“It was none of my business, and even less Dumbledore’s.”

In the end he agreed, because no matter how many times he wanted to deny it, he wanted to see what Lily’s daughter had become.

Now if only he could find a way to wipe off the satisfied smirk off Minerva’s face… 

* * *

Hazel opened the door the next morning to the unexpected sight of a tall long black haired and eyed man with a fair complexion, instead of the salesman she had thought was at the door when she’d heard a knock.

“Hello, sir.” She said with a serenely polite smile reminiscent of her Shīfu’s. “May I have the honour of knowing who I am talking to?”

The blink she received in return was the only sign of surprise she could observe from the man.

“Severus Snape, Professor at Hogwarts.”

“Nice to meet you Professor Snape.” Hazel’s smile widened slightly when he shook the hand she held out firmly. “How are you today sir, if I may ask?”

“I am doing splendidly.” He retorted snarkily looking like he was refraining from rolling his eyes. The action forced her to hide an amused smile; not even two minutes into their conversation and she already liked the man. 

“I am so very glad to hear that. What can I do for you today, Professor?”

“It’s more about what I can do for you, Miss Potter. I’m here to inform you of everything you need to know about Hogwarts. I will also be the one helping you with your school shopping.”

“Then I thank you for taking some of your time to come and help me, sir.”

* * *

The first thing he noticed about the Potter girl was that she looked nothing like his childhood tormentor. In fact she bore a startling resemblance to both her adoptive grandmother Dorea Black, and his childhood friend. 

She had long curly black hair, pale golden skin and Lily’s bright green eyes. She had her mother’s mouth and nose as well, and her cheekbones were all Dorea Black’s. Her eyebrows and smile were extremely reminiscent of Dorea’s sister, Cassiopeia Black and their late mother Violetta. 

Severus had only met the older woman once when he had been dragged to a party by Regulus, but Violetta, who had been nearly 98 years old at the time had left him with a strong lasting impression. The woman had been so obviously _dangerous_ when he met her; she had fought in the World War I after all (on the magical side of thing because apparently even at the time it was perfectly acceptable for Black women to fight and drench the battlefield with the blood of their enemies–then again he couldn’t imagine anyone saying to someone like Violetta that _she couldn’t fight_ and living to tell the tale; the woman had been damn terrifying). 

Back on track, the only thing he could vaguely recognize as being from Potter was her chin and hair, and even then his rival had gotten the former from his adoptive mother, and the brat’s hair was slightly more tame than her father’s.

She was a bit short, and considering the way Petunia had treated him when they were younger, he was leaning towards abuse being the cause, but her lithe body was covered in muscles that seemed to belong to a gymnast or a fighter.

Considering the cold calculating and almost analytical look in her eyes that she was clearly trying–and failing–to hide from him completely and the callouses he had felt when they had shaken hands, she was probably both.

While he hadn’t interacted long enough with her to get a good impression of her personality-wise, he was slightly baffled by her generally pleasant demeanour that bordered on excessive.

He held out an arm and gave the usual warnings one gave to someone who was going to go through side-apparition for the first time once she latched onto his robe. 

“Hold on tight and hold your breath on my count of three.” With that said, he apparated without further ado and was shocked when Hazel didn’t even gag as they landed in Diagon Alley. Though he hid it well she seemed to notice and smirked.

“I’ve been able to teleport–or “port” as I call it–since I was eight. I nearly emptied my stomach of all it’s content the first time.”

“I see.” He stated shortly. “Well we should start our shopping, before the crowds hit the alley.” He said the word _crowd_ with a vicious sneer before sending Hazel a wry grin. “You’ll soon find out that I _hate_ crowding.”

The raven haired girl nodded seriously.

“Where should we start, sir?”

“Gringotts.”

“Lead the way then, Professor Snape.” 

He snorted but complied nonetheless, trekking his way through the beginnings of a crowd that was already forming in the alley.

* * *

“You will bring me to my account manager, teller Hellthorn.” She ordered nonsensically after glancing at the solid gold nameplate on the Goblin’s desk.

The goblin gauged her warily, probably sensing the dangerous aura clinging to her like a second skin; Fēng had taught her how to be lethal and she had taken his teachings to heart. Her mentor had been the first person to believe in her and she would always be thankful that he decided she was worth his time. Thanks to him she would never be _weak_ again. Never.

She took Hellthorn’s scrutiny with stoic grace and calm, and eventually the teller seemed to find what he was looking for because he grunted approvingly and picked up his quill.

“Name.”

“Hazel Potter.”

Hellthorn looked up, a severe look in his eyes.

“We have people claiming to be Potter every single day. For security purposes we require a blood test to give access to the accounts in any way.”

She smiled slightly, not offended at all by their attitude; it reminded her of Viper. 

“Of course. I thank you for taking all necessary measures to insure the safety of the Potter and Peverell wealth.” She said. “How much blood?”

“Seven drops.”

She accepted the atame the goblin handed her and pricked her finger with the sharp tip before holding out a hand above the rune covered parchment the goblin had placed onto his desk.

Slowly her name appeared on the paper and said paper promptly disappeared. She wiped the blade until none of her blood remained; she had read too many sorcery books while trying to figure out how to control her powers to leave blood lying around unnecessarily. Hellthorn grunted approvingly before hopping off his stool. He was promptly replaced by another goblin.

“You are truly Heiress Peverell-Potter. Follow me.”

She did as ordered and soon she and Professor Snape found themselves sitting in hardback chairs in a spartan office.

“Heiress Peverell-Potter. My name is Skyholder, I am the Potter and Peverell account manager.”

“Nice to meet you, Skyholder. What is the state of my accounts?”

If these goblins were like Viper, then she knew exactly how to deal with them.

Skyholder scanned through the folder that had just been brought in, and when he looked back up he seemed very angry.

“There seems to be some… inconsistencies in your accounts.”

“Inconsistencies?”

“Some of the Peverell and Potter artifacts have been… displaced.”

“Displaced?” She repeated once again.

There must’ve been a dangerous edge to her voice because the goblin shifted uncomfortably. 

“Displaced.” Confirmed her account manager much to her ire.

“Why have you not noticed before now?”

“The accounts were frozen upon your parent’s death and technically nobody could access them. They have just been reopened with your return to the wizarding world.” Explained Snape. 

“Indeed. It seems we have a traitor in our midst.”

The goblin looked furious and she grinned in vicious satisfaction; it didn’t bode well for the traitor.

“Is there any way to get them back?”

“Of course. We at Gringotts tag all the artifacts entrusted into our care as to be able to summon them with a ritual if one of clients crosses a line and we are within our right to claim them back.”

“Do it.”

Her account manager grinned ferally.

“With pleasure.”

One quick ritual later, she was staring at the pile of heirlooms on the goblin’s desk in surprise and rage at the fact that so many items that belonged to her family had fallen in the hands of others. However that didn’t stop him from eying the silvery cloak, the black stone and the pale white wand hovering before her eyes.

She stared, entranced, as the objects’ magic almost begged her to grab them. 

She reached out without thinking and as soon as she made contact with the items, everything went white.


	7. If Death was a teenage girl, I would be a unicorn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh hello there! My name is Death, and I’m your new best friend!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... not quite sure what happened with this chapter...
> 
> -MS

Miles away from the bank in a majestic old castle filled to the brim with magic and wonders, an old man made the mistake to sleep in on this particular day.

On his bedside table, a long pale wand vanished from existence only to be replaced by a pale imitation of it seconds afterwards. The same process repeated itself with the cloak stored in the old man’s desk.

* * *

Hazel blinked a few times as the bright white light faded and realized that she was in a large bright and airy office. Her eyes roamed around the room, taking in the pastel blue walls, the decadent glossy birch parquet and the matching furnishing; before locking onto the teenage girl sat behind the imposing desk at the other end of the room. The older girl, who looked around fourteen or so, was wearing a pale, off the shoulders dress covered in white lace that looked as delicate as snowflakes and hoarfrost. There was a beautiful crown of fresh lilies braided into her platinum blonde hair. She was fair skinned with bright cyan doe eyes. Her face was heart shaped, as were her pale pink lips; her features were delicate and her chin and nose pointed.

The teen turned to her and grinned brightly.

“Oh hello there! My name is Death, and I’m your new best friend!”

“Err… what?”

* * *

“First and foremost, come sit and have some tea.” Declared Death, gesturing to the bergère chairs placed in a half circle by one of the large picture windows.

“You are my mistress and have been since your birth.” Death explained to her Mistress, smiling at the little girl in front of her who looked so very confused. 

“Why meet me now?”

“Because of the items you attempted to touch before losing consciousness. While you were chosen at birth to be my mistress, they had to accept you as their next wielder in order to allow you to take the bridge connecting my plane of existence to yours. Out of the three, only one was supposed to be summoned by the goblin ritual, but I didn’t want to wait any longer before meeting you so I tweaked the ritual so that it would summon all three.”

“I see.” Hazel paused to think. “I have one question.”

“Ask away, darling.”

“What does the title mean?”

She shrugged.

“Oh nothing much… you are now a lot harder to kill, but not immortal until you reach the age of twenty. You will then stop aging. So be careful, alright? Because from what little I’ve seen of you so far I really like you and I’d rather not go through this process again, and with someone I might dislike on top of that. In time you will grow into your title fully and ironically just being here and being eternal, you will be one of the only things keeping this world from destruction. Death is a beautiful thing, part of an endless cycle that has been in place since the beginnings of time. Death is key to the balance of this world.”

“I guess I’ll try my best to stay alive, then.”

“Thank you. But it won’t be as easy as you might think. Tom Riddle, the self-titled Dark Lord still lives, and he will come after you. I cannot tell you where he hides however because the vile rituals he went through in his youth had the result of putting him out of the reach of my jurisdiction.”

“What kind of rituals?”

“Riddle split his soul six times.” She spat, still extremely angered at the fact that the bastard desecrated his very soul in an effort to evade her, disrespecting the gift her only friend until now, Life, had granted him with. 

“What?! But that’s horrifying!”

She chuckled at her mistress’s more than obvious disgust, and was more than happy to note that despite the rather unpleasant subject of conversation, Hazel looked very relaxed in her presence, and at home in Death’s study. 

“I agree.” She said sitting next to her mistress in the settee and grinning when the girl scooted over and relaxed against her, trusting her completely. Hazel truly was a unique witch; entirely unafraid of the embodiment of death itself. “That is why I’ll be transferring a ritual into your mind tonight while you sleep in the event that you come across one of those abominations he hid which are scattered across Britain.”

“That would be very helpful thank you.” Hazel let her eyes roam around the room with a glint of something akin longingly in her gaze. “How much time do we have left?”

Death’s lips curled into a smile as she leaned over and picked up the teapot.

“We have all the time in the world, Honey. Would you like some more tea, dear?”

“I guess a cup wouldn’t hurt.”

When it was decided that Hazel should go back, Death could see that her friend was quite reluctant to leave, and looked quite confused because of it.

“Why do I feel longing for this place even though I haven’t left? Why am I so attached when I’ve only been here for a few hours.”

Death hugged Hazel softly as they stood in Death’s study. Silence stretched on as her Mistress basked in the feel of Death surrounding her and seeping into her very core.

As close as they were to each other physically, Death could feel that her friend was already going through the changes that came with becoming Mistress of Death, though it was going very slowly, as expected.

As Hazel grew older, her magic and physiognomy would slowly change in nearly imperceptible ways. Over time Hazel’s cells and bones would become progressively more resistant to any kind of damage; the Death magiks would seep into her core and intertwine with her magic the longer she spent time within this hall; her soul would become harder and harder to separate from her body and would eventually be tethered to the Death Realm. When the witch reached the age of twenty, her transformation would finally be complete and she would be immortal; she would officially become Mistress of Death in every meaning of the title.

“Creatures of Death will always feel more comfortable in my realm, and that includes you. Don’t worry; you will feel better as soon as you are back in your original world.”

Hazel avoided her gaze, looking quite awkward.

“Will I see you again?”

“Of course! I’ll visit you in your dreams as often as I can.”

“Great! I was scared this would be another goodbye.”

Death heard the, just like Fēng and Reborn perfectly, and laid a comforting hand on Hazel’s shoulder. The girl leaned into her touch as her very soul sought reassurance and comfort during what equaled in Hazel’s mind to yet another separation.

“They are doing just fine, Hazel, and miss you every day, though they’d rather die than admit to anyone else than you.”

Hazel gave her a thankful smile, her relief almost palpable as some of the previously unnoticed tension in the girl’s shoulders disappeared.

“Off you go, then. Your potion master is waiting for you.”

“My potion–?”

Her new friend disappeared in a flash of bright light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDITOR LOG  
> ~15/03/2021~  
> Changes in Hazel’s discussion with Death to include more information on the MoD thing.
> 
> Reviews are more than welcome!


	8. Black Friday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Have you ever heard of credit cards?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School has started. 
> 
> *insert screams of utter despair and sufferance*
> 
> Sadly that means that the update schedule will be slowed down to a chapter every two or three weeks.
> 
> With that out of the way, here is the next chapter; the longest one to date. 
> 
> -MS

Severus was on his feet as soon Hazel collapsed, catching her before she hit the floor. She looked pallid, almost dead-like, but her eyes were moving restlessly behind fluttering eyelids. It took everything he had to stop himself from reacting to the light greenish and dark purple snake who poked its head out of the girl’s left sleeve only to start hissing over the girl’s limp form worriedly.

Three minutes and thirty-two seconds later, the girl’s eyes blinked open languid, and Hazel glanced around the room in confusion.

“What happened, brat?” 

Hazel gave him a mad grin, mischief shining in her eyes.

“I’ve apparently become Death’s best girl friend.” The girl paused. “Did you know that Death was a teenage girl?”

“Right… and I suppose you believe I’m a unicorn now?” He drawled, his drawn out words literally oozing thick sarcasm, his sense of foreboding getting stronger when Hazel’s grin widened, promising unholy amounts of chaos for everyone involved in her hellish scheme.

“Absolutely!” The brat nodded in emphasis with a cheeky grin. “I do have a question though… where do you hide your horn?”

“Why you little–”

His rant was (unfortunately) interrupted before he could get his point across by the account manager clearing his throat.

They both shut up and Hazel leaped from where she was still cradled in his arms and sat in the chair next to his, straightening her flowing black pants and deep blue blouse. 

“I apologize, Teller Skyholder, for the wait. The entity calling herself Death wanted to have a cup of tea with me and I simply couldn’t refuse.”

Severus decided that–for the sake of whatever remained of his sanity–he would refrain from commenting on the absurdity of that statement or the situation in general.

Doing so would only make things worst.

“Completely understandable, but now that you are back with us, you will claim the Potter and Peverell heirships.”

Hazel gestured for the goblin to proceed and Skycrusher brought out two dark wooden ring boxes encrusted with onyxes and garnets respectively.

The brat opened the first box and gasped at the beautifully detailed silver ring it contained that was set with an octogonal garnet embossed with the Potter crest with a small diadem above it that indicated that this was the heiress ring. When she became of age, Hazel would be able to claim the Ladyship ring and her husband would wear the Lordship band.

Potter put the ring on and it immediately resized to fit her rather small fingers, indicating that the family magic had accepted her claim to the heirship.

“Next.” Was all Skyholder said before holding out the onyx covered box.

Hazel wasted no time slipping the jet ring mounted with an obsidian that was carved in the shape of an incredibly detailed thorny rose and emblazoned with the symbol of the deathly hallows. It shrunk to fit her as well.

“Hrm. It seems the rings have accepted you. If you want to pay for something expensive, simply press your ring on the receipt and the amount will be withdrawn from the heir vault.” Potter–no, she was more a Peverell than a Potter if her reaction to the Hallows (which he easily recognized; he was not an idiot, thank you very much) was anything to go by–nodded in understanding to the obvious satisfaction of the goblins. “Anything else Gringotts can do for you today, Heiress Peverell-Potter?”

Lily’s daughter nodded, a few wayward black curls that had escaped her tight braid bouncing in tandem with the movement.

“Yes. There are a few matters I feel the need to bring up. First and foremost, I want you to move everything from the Potter and Peverell vaults into a new vault under the name Sirina Star; except for the five thousand galleons that shall be put into a vault under the name Hazel Potter as a decoy. As a second decoy I want ten thousand galleons to go into a vault under the name James Evans. Finally leave a knut in both the Peverell and Potter vaults to ensure they stay active.” Here Hazel paused to take a sip of water and place what looked like an evolved version of those cellphones he had seen the last time he’d gone to the muggle world. “I have an account manager for the non-magical side of my finances. Their name is Viper. They know about the magical world and want them to be involved in the management of my magical accounts. They will come to the bank at some point this week with a letter written and signed by me and I ask you kindly to cooperate with them, because time is money and I will be extremely _unhappy_ if you waste both of mine. Am I understood?”

“Crystal.” 

“I want you to investigate every company that uses my name and/or Girl-Who-Lived image and brand, or used it in the past. Make sure they pay me every single knut they owe me when it comes to royalties.”

Skyholder smirked viciously, obviously delighted at the thought of making the life of quite a few wizards a complete nightmare in the upcoming weeks or even months considering the amount of merch that used and abused the Potter name and the Girl-Who-Lived brand.

“I will do so with great pleasure. Those wizards have abused your family and you in particular for too long.” 

“Excellent. Onto the last matter that requires Gringotts’ attention today; I want to know if I have any living relatives.”

Skyholder nodded briefly and shuffled through the folder before pulling out a parchment with a miniature family tree.

“You have two godfathers who are currently alive; one is incarcerated for betraying your parents and killing their best friend Peter Pettigrew; the other is next to you,” the goblin seemed to notice the utter shock he had no doubt was showing on his face, and paused, looking at him inquiringly. 

“Am I correct in my belief that you knew nothing of this?”

“No I did not.” He managed to choke out, still reeling over the fact that he had a goddaughter and he hadn’t been aware of it! Lily had jokingly said something about it, but he didn’t think she would really go through with it! 

“We will investigate what happened; you should have been informed as soon as you were designated as Heiress Peverell’s godfather.” Seeing his nod, the goblin turned to Hazel and cleared his throat.

“Excellent. Moving on, you also have a few Black relatives left, mainly Cassiopeia Black and Arcturus Black. They are ruthless and cunning and it would be best to have them in your corner. Once again, we will reach out to them on your behalf for the right price.”

Surprisingly, Hazel–who had straightened in interest during their conversation about him–went back to lounging in her chair with boneless grace and absolute readiness to jump up and defend or attack. Her lips curled in a confident smirk and she gave a laze dip of her head in acknowledgment.

“Indeed. Time is money, after all.” Agreed Hazel with a definite air of undisguised amusement mingled with grudging respect and… satisfaction—that her account manager was on par with her when it came to dealing money perhaps?

“Glad to see we’re on the same page.”

His lip twitched; Hazel had only been in the bank for all of two hours and she already had the goblins wrapped around her little finger.

“Actually, I happen to be very close to Cassiopeia, and will be having a cup of tea with her tomorrow. It would be more practical if I was to relay the message in person.”

“I would appreciate that, Professor Snape. Thank you.” 

His lips twitched again because of her answer; her whole demeanour practically ozed with well practiced politeness, serene control and good manners, but to someone who was a spy like him it was no challenge to see it for what it was. The pleasant facade was just that; nothing more than an act, a mask she wore in public.

“You’re very welcome, Miss Peverell.”

“Why do you call me that now?”

“Because using the name Peverell will give credence based on your ancestors’ accomplishments instead of relying on the fame the Potter name currently has, which, admittedly, is terribly fickle.” Severus paused when Skyholder snorted in agreement. “Moreover, the Peverell are a senior family as well as above the Potters in terms of social and political standing. All in all, you would receive more respect if you used the Peverell name in private social circles.”

The goblin grunted in approval as he shuffled sheets of parchment around.

“Well said. You have some relatives in France–the Sangd’Encre–and from India–the Patil Family who are well known for their ability to speak the noble snake dialect. Both are from your mother’s side. The Sangd’Encre are very reclusive so contacting them will be difficult, but the Patil Family are sending their twin heiresses to Hogwarts so it will be easy to contact the family once in school.”

“Could you leave a copy of the document with me as proof in the eventuality that they don’t believe me?”

“It can be done–for a price.”

“Thank you. You can take the fees from my trust vault for that particular expense. Anyone else I should know about?”

“Finally you have a godbrother, Neville Longbottom. I’m afraid he will be harder to reach. His grandmother put the Longbottom Manor under lockdown right after Lord and Lady Longbottom were tortured into insanity and it’s still on lockdown today.”

“That’s fine, I’ll talk to him once we’re both at Hogwarts.”

“Then it seems we are done here for today.”

“Actually, I wanted to mention two things. The first will save you a lot of money and the second will expand your money making enterprise to the non magical world.”

Skyholder leaned forward eagerly.

“Do tell.”

“Are you aware that the non-magicals have found a way to mass produce a variant of parchment called paper and that it costs less than a eighth of the price for parchment?”

The Potter account manager wrote the information down eagerly and looked back up.

“The second thing?”

A lazy smirk slowly crept its way onto Hazel’s face as the girl leant forward conspiratorially. 

Suddenly Severus was filled with a very strong and unnerving feeling of foreboding.

“Have you ever heard of credit cards?”

* * *

“Where should we go first, Professor Snape?” She asked pleasantly. 

“First and foremost we will look into the acquisition of a wand, that way I can teach you a handful of helpful spells that will facilitate our shopping endeavours. Then we will invest in a top quality trunk with maximum security–don’t look at me like that it never hurts to be too careful–to store all your purchases.”

“It will hurt if I end up bankrupt.”

“Which won’t happen because you are filthy rich.” Retorted her future teacher dryly.

She chuckled as walked down the alley.

“Point. Hey, aren’t we going there?” She pointed to the shop with the sign that read _Ollivanders–Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C._

Snape snorted derisively and shot her a look that clearly said _this is the first time you’ve been here; I, on the other hand, have been here more times than I can count. I know what I’m doing and where I’m going, you don’t, so shut up_.  
  
She grinned unrepentantly and hid a silent laugh behind the hair that had fallen into her face over the course of the whole day.

"Ollivanders is a Ministry controlled shop that is forced to put the trace on their wands. They force barely suited pre-made wands onto their customers. I know somewhere much better.”

“The trace?”

“It tells if, when and where you are practicing magic outside of heavily magical areas.”

“Isn’t that unfair for… muggle-born students, was it?”

“Nothing is fair for those who aren’t born within the magical enclaves. They don’t have the same rights on the job market or when it comes to practicing magic, and they don’t get to be involved in the decision making of the Wizarding World. Likewise, since the wizard raised children are taught everything they need to know from the cradle–even spells, potions and tidbits of our history–they are dragged back by the muggleborns since the school’s courses are tailored while keeping the muggleborn students in mind.”

“That’s horrible!” She breathed out, unable to keep her horror and indignation from mingling with her tone. “There must be something we can do to change that!”

Snape chuckled next to her and she grinned, proud of the fact that she had been able to draw such a reaction from the gruff man.

“I’m sure if you put your mind to it you would be able to make a difference.” He said mildly and she absolutely beamed at him because that must’ve been the biggest praise he’d ever given; he didn’t seem like the type to be very forthcoming in that area. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “This is it.”

They had arrived in front of a two storey building in the shadier part of town. There was a sign hanging above the door that read _Blackthorn Emporium–selling custom wands, dragonhide wand holsters up to Auror level, wand maintenance kits and wandlore references._

Taking a deep breath she entered the shop, followed closely by Snape.

* * *

They walked out an hour later and Severus couldn’t help the twitch of his lips as he watched his future student stroke her new wand (aspen, beech and redwood; phoenix and thunderbird feather as well a sliver of a basilisk fang as the core) reverently.

“If you are done stroking your wand, brat, we can get this whole _shopping_ thing out of the way.”

“Of course Professor!”

* * *

“Have a good day.” Shouted the dazed looking shopkeeper.

Severus understood why; the brat had spent their first twenty minutes in the trunk shop battering the man with a multitude of question about the quality-price ratio of the trunks, the security measures already in place on them and what were the different properties of the various materials the trunks were built out of and many more questions on details and tidbits that most people wouldn’t normally care about. After finally settling for a hungarian horntail leather trunk with three compartments–a small library that could fit up to twenty books with a built-in portable desk to store her calligraphy tools, a potion cupboard layered with integrated preservation wards and an expandable wardrobe with space to store jewelry and cosmetics—she had relentlessly interrogated the man on which enchantments additional she could choose for her trunk and demanded that most of them be integrated into the spellwork that had already been weaved into the trunk. Finally, she had spent ten minutes bargaining with the shopkeeper to pay a better price. Using sound and well thought out arguments, she left the man at loss about how to react or what to do.

The worse was that throughout the whole ordeal, never once did she drop her polite facade.

He had to admit he was impressed.

* * *

“No. Absolutely not.”

Hazel stood in front of a collection of quills and parchments, sneering in disdain at this utter waste of money. She had seen the shop on her way to Gringotts, hence why she informed the Goblin Nation of the price ratio of parchment versus paper and she couldn’t believe the wizarding world was ruining their already fragile economy with such stupidity all for the sale of fucking tradition. She understood their desire to protect rituals and family magic, truly she did, but this wasn’t the right way to do it. 

“Why ever not?” Drawled Professor Snape, raising a brow with no small amount of amusement contained in the action.

“Did you not listen to anything I said to the goblins?”

“... I see. So this is a matter of money, then?”

She gave a minute nod.

“In parts, yes.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“Practicality, of course! A hardbound notebook is so much easier to manage than rolls of parchment and let’s not get started on the utter stupidity of using _quills_ of all things! I mean, is that really–”

Her indignant rant was unfortunately interrupted by the owner of the shop, who approached them and spoke up timidly.

“If I may, Miss, I overheard your conversation and fortunately, I have the perfect thing for you. Please follow me in the back, I have to hide that kind merchandise because one of the patrons of this establishment is a hardcore blood purist with a unmeasurable hatred for anything muggle.”

She turned to the man and smiled pleasantly.

“Lead the way then, sir.”

He led them through a door and into a room filled with clearly magical leather of snake hide bound notebooks of all colours and size, and an immense selection of fountain pens, graphite pencils and other calligraphy utensils.

“The scaly notebooks are bound with various types of dragon hide. They are quite resistant to damage. The pens are all charmed to never run out of ink; some have some additional enchantments that do things like change the colour of the ink, or make it erasable with a pulse of your magic in the pen, and many other things. The enchantments are listed on the label.”

“Thank you.” 

She left the shop fifteen minutes later with quite a few notebooks and pens packed in her trunk. 

* * *

George stood on a stool in Madam Malkin’s shop with an assistant fluttering around him as she measured, pinned and cut the fabric.

His twin brother was in the same position close by, but unlike him, Fred didn’t have the luck to be catered by a young gorgeous woman and was stuck with Mme Malkin instead.

Both he and Fred had a growth spurt during the summer and nothing belonging to their older siblings fit them; they were either too small (their shoulders were broader than Percy’s now thanks to Quidditch) or way too big. Since they had four O’s each in their end of the year exams, their father had decided to work overtime as to have enough money to spare to buy them two new uniforms each. 

His attention was drawn to the door when the tinkling of the doorbell announced the arrival of a new customer. 

Standing in the doorway was a raven long haired girl with bright green eyes with a glint that spoke of boundless mischief and chaos about to be reaped on the world, hiding behind a perfectly innocent and polite facade; a little devil in disguise. More than that though; the girl was a potential partner in all things mayhem.

He exchanged a grin with his brother, then turned his focus back to the girl who had stepped onto a free stool on his other side.

“Well hello there! May I and my brother have the honour of knowing your name, Princess of Chaos?”

The girl raised an eyebrow.

“Princess of Chaos? Hmm, I suppose you could call me that… was taught by the best after all. You may know me Sirina Star.”

“How benevolent of you to grace us mere humans with your wondrous presence, Your Highness of Chaos. I am Gred.”

“And I am Forge.” Finished his brother with a wide grin that widened when the girl chuckled in delighted amusement.

“Nice to meet you, Gred, Forge. You are Hogwarts students I presume.”

“Unfortunately. For two long tedious years we’ve suffered through it all.”

“Homework.”

“Classes.”

“Detention.”

“Lines.”

“Cauldron duty.”

“Trophy Room duty.”

“Toilet bowl duty.”

“Potion ingredient duty.”

“Mortally boring history of magic lessons.”

“McGonagall’s death eyes.”

“Filch and his cat.”

“The wretched point system.”

“And we survived!” They finished together, wearing matching mischievous grins as they watched Sirina trying to hold back her laughter even as one of Malkin’s assistants tutted at the girl, reminding her to stay still. 

“Well join me on the Hogwarts Express if you manage to find me.”

“We’ll hold you to that invitation.”

Sirina grinned.

“You better. See you later, then; Gred and Forge.” She said as she stepped off the stool. He and his brother were left gaping; this was the first time someone could differentiate them as soon as their first time meeting. Even their very own _mother_ could rarely tell them appart.

* * *

“Why hello there, beautiful.” Cooed Hazel down at the gorgeous female snowy owl perched on her arm. Just like Francisco, the tips of the owl’s wings and tail had turned a beautiful amber colour as soon as her claws made contact with her arm. “Would you like to come with me?”

She took the hoot she received in return as an affirmative answer and grinned.

“Glad to hear that.” Hazel shifted the owl so the bird of prey was perched onto her shoulder, and her smile widened when she instantly started preening her hair, radiating exasperation not unlike Laurel’s at the way her more unruly strands fought every attempt to wrestle them into a semblance of order with fierce determination. “You need a name… hmm… What about Sukai?”

She was graced with a pleased hoot as Sukai preened, pleased with her new name.

“Are you quite done?” Drawled her soon-to-be potion professor impatiently while glaring at a bunch of loud children cooing over a kitten.

“Coming!” She yelled, glancing at the newly named Sukai with a small smile. “Welcome to the family, partner.”

* * *

“We should go eat something.” Said his goddaughter determinately. “It’s important to stay well fed.”

“Indeed. Shall we grab something at the Leaky Cauldron?” He said, secretly hoping she would say no or drop the idea of eating all together. He had standards, thank you very much, and the Leaky Cauldron was far below said standards.

He couldn’t help but let out the breath he was unknowingly holding when she shook her head, curls bouncing wildly. 

“Neh–we should go somewhere in the non magical world. This place is great and all, but I think I need a break. The culture shock is getting a bit too much.” Hazel tilted her head to the side slightly as she thought. “Oh! I know just the place! There is a restaurant a few streets from here that sells sushi that is to die for! Do you like sushi?”

“I do.” He answered, feeling lips twitch upwards at her enthusiasm.

“Great!” The brat grabbed his hand and dragged him out of Diagon Alley. “The sushi place is owned by a Japanese couple who moved here last year and wanted to share their culture with us westerners. It’s been a great success!”

Hazel led him through the streets of London all the way to a small quaint shop with a brick facade that was painted a very pale shade of sky blue with wide windows framed with vines.

His jaw nearly dropped when Hazel pushed the establishment’s door open and entered the sushi shop without further ado before greeting the kind-looking owners in fluent Japanese, babbling away enthusiastically at an impossible speed while the man behind the counter smiled warmly obviously listening to the girl with rapt attention. Hazel eventually led him to a table that offered quite a lot of privacy despite its emplacement by the window and sat down. As soon as he followed suit, she started asking him intricate questions about potions. She must’ve ordered for them because shortly afterwards the owner came out of the kitchen and place two trays laden with food in front of them.

Half an hour later he polished off the last of his sashimi and leaned back in his seat. He looked out the window for a short while before fixing his intense gaze onto his goddaughter who was clearly having an internal struggle over something extremely important to her.

Finally she seemed to come to a decision and pulled out what he instantly recognized as her Hogwarts letter from a pocket of her ever present shoulder bag and placed it on the table between them.

“Tell me you didn’t know anything about this, Professor.” Demanded his goddaughter, and his usual snappish response at having that kind of tone directed his way got stuck in his throat when he registered the hope and desperation lacing her voice.

Slowly he picked up the letter with a trembling hand and suddenly he couldn’t breathe; couldn’t think with the utter rage roaring in his chest as his black eyes traced the elaborate dark green script scrawled on the back of the letter that read _Hazel L. Potter - The Cupboard Under the Stairs_ , _Number 4, Privet Drive, Surrey._

He startled when a soft yet calloused hand covered his own as it rested on the table, clenching and loosening periodically. He absently noticed that amethyst flames were dancing on the skin of his hands and around his fingers and took a deep breath as he reigned them in.

“Shh… It’s alright; I’m alright. Calm down. I don’t really stay with them anymore. I’ve only been put in back there a week ago and the only reason I haven’t fought back is because I’ve been getting the feeling that someone has been watching me.” Explained Hazel with a soft smile as the purple flames retreated. “I have someone I stay with most of the time–she tried adopting me but it didn’t work–but she _forgets_ who I am sometimes.”

That sounded... ominous. 

“How so?”

“Last week was the fourth time that she forgot everything about me. It’s like she’d never met me before. It takes her a week to get her memories back.”

He took a deep, steadying breath.

“I can assure that I didn’t know anything about this. I didn’t even know where Dumbledore had dropped you until yesterday when I read your reply to the Hogwarts letter.”

Hazel sagged in relief and gave him a thankful nod.

“I’ll see what I can do to make sure it doesn’t happen, but until then be careful.”

Hazel shook her head in clear disagreement.

“I will. It seems someone messes with Laurel’s mind every time the authorities are involved, or when someone is watching the Dursleys’ house. As long as we keep our head down, Laurel and I will be fine.”

“That’s all I ask for now.”

* * *

Severus fell into steps with his goddaughter, lost in deep thoughts as they walked back to Number Four, Privet Drive.

The day he had spent with the Potter–Hazel–had cemented the fact that she was nothing like her father.

She was proud and confident in her abilities without being arrogant; calm and tempered instead of the hot headed Gryffindor her father had been; polite and pleasant to a fault where her father had been a spoiled brat before his seventh year when Dorea had apparently put him through the ringer; smart, and extremely curious with an impressive thirst for knowledge–as proven when she had ranted with righteous indignation about the stupidity of the wizarding world for twenty minutes straight after learning that she couldn’t learn Arithmancy and Runes before her third year; one thing was for sure–the girl had no shortage of swear words in her vocabulary. Once she calmed down enough, she decided to learn Latin to improve her understanding of spell. Sadly she seemed unwilling to show her academic side too overtly. It was probably a result of the abuse she had had lived through and the obvious favoritism her relatives showed towards her cousin.

Hazel Potter was ruthless, driven, focused, cunning and she had a sharp and nimble mind. 

He had watched with no small amount of pride as she played the goblins like a fiddle like she had been doing so her whole life.   
  
Despite all of this she had a heart of gold. Her soul may not be pure and untainted, but it wasn’t a dull grey. Her soul was bright; a galaxy of golds and ambers and purples.

Eventually Hazel broke the silence, bringing him out of his thoughts.

“Professor Snape? I was wondering if… we could see each other again before the start of the term? I really enjoyed our time together and I would be glad to have another occasion to discuss the intricacies of spell creation with you.”

Severus froze, unable to believe someone–other than Cassiopeia, Lucius and his godson–actually wanted to spend _more_ time with him than strictly necessary.

He hesitated–should he really do this? Did he really want to do this? In the end he already knew the answer.

Yes, he wanted to. 

He wanted to get to know Lily’s daughter better. Wanted to learn more about his amazing goddaughter who had a magical boa–who's name was _Francisco_ of all things–as a pet.  
  
Wanted to get to know this _talented_ eleven year old girl who was fluent in Chinese and Japanese, had regularly participated in solo gymnastics competitions in the past and won all of them, and proficient least three different forms of martial arts.

He smiled.

“Of course. I’ll write as soon as I can with a time and date.”

The beaming grin he received in response made him feel lighter than he had in years.

“Great! I’ll wait for your letter then, Professor Snape!”

He shook his head slightly, making her brows–Cassie’s brows–crinkled into frown of confusion.

“Call me Uncle Severus, brat. It’s what you would’ve known me as, if your mother had survived.”

A complicated emotion he couldn’t even begin to decipher flickered over her face. 

“You knew my mother, then?”

“We met when we were eight and were best friends.”

“Alright then, Uncle Sev.” She stood on tiptoes and did something no one had dared to do in years; she kissed his cheek in farewell. “See you soon.”

* * *

Viper was checking the stock market for the nth time when their phone rang a familiar tune. Picking up they couldn’t help their fond thoughts for the person on the other; over the years since Sirina had first contacted them, they had taught the girl enough things about dealing with money that they could almost consider her their protégé. Sirina shared their talent when it came to money, though there was still room for improvement.

“Viper, I have a new job for you.”

“Mu. I’m listening.”

“I recently discovered that I am a witch. I transferred all the funds I inherited from my parents into a vault of my own and I want you to manage them because as much as I like the goblins from what little I saw of them, I trust you more. The goblins have been notified of your imminent and warned of the consequences that await if they even think of wasting my time and money.”

“Mou. How much money are we talking about?”

“A shit load.” There was a slight pause before Sirina spoke up once again. “Not sure the exact amount, but I’m sure the Goblins will give you all the info you need.”

“I demand a third of what the money made by the investments and some more incriminating pictures of Reborn as blackmail.”

Sirina chuckled.

“Works with me. I’ll send you the best of them along with the letter to give to the goblins.”

* * *

Severus apparated to Blackrose Cottage, the current residence of one Cassiopeia Black and the scent of roses and sea salt hit his nose as he stalked towards the door after taking a second to appreciate the scenery. The sea was literally at the cottage’s doorstep that crashed relentlessly against the plunging cliff that looked over an isolated anse. As always, mist cloaked the great body of water during hot summer afternoons. Minuscule sea shells that were charmed unbreakable shifted underfoot as he made his way up the sinuous paths that meandered itself in lazy curves up the hill the cottage was situated on and then wound itself around the maze of deep indigo, blood red and black rose bushes. The path stopped at a flight of smooth stone steps that led up to the elaborate entrance of the three stories cottage that was built out of dark timber and pale river stone while dark gleaming bronze slates had been used for the roof and stained glass that had undoubtedly been charmed unbreakable (that all Blacks were paranoid bastards was a well known fact) was used for the wide airy windows that could be seen all over the building.

Straightening proudly he felt a previously unnoticed tension leave his shoulders as he tread familiar terrain, and knocked on the dark hardwood front door.

He had met Cassiopeia–call me Cassie dear–at the same ball he had met the woman’s mother. The renowned owner of the Black Book of Blackmail didn’t look a day over thirty at the time even if she was well past her fifties. She had taken an instant shine to him when, for some reason that to this day eclipsed even to him; though he was slightly inebriated at the time so that might explain it, he had told her what had happened with Dumbledore and his and Lily’s scheme. The woman had practically adopted him as her nephew or grandson, much to Regulus’ amusement. 

Cassiopeia had promised to help him in his endeavours to trick both the headmaster and Voldemort, who he had never really joined. Apparently it was possible for him to mix the strange purple flames he had awakened back when he was still a student at Hogwarts with his magic in order to create a clone of himself. Once his double had received the Dark Mark, Severus had researched the disgusting brand with Cassie’s help and managed to create a spell that transferred the magics in the dark mark into a bracelet that he always wore. The accessory had been set to pulse three times when the Dark Lord summoned him during the Wizarding War, after which he sent a clone to the meeting. The clone gathered all the information he needed to stay two steps ahead both the Dark Lord and Dumbledore. 

Luckily the dark lord very rarely asked him to show him the dark mark, and Severus made sure to cast an extremely complex illusion charm on the clone’s arm that made it look for all intent and purpose like there was a mark branded on the clone’s arm. He’d even managed to copy the spells that had been located in his mark and quickly transfer them into the fake mark.

Then he made the mistake of his life when he relayed the damn prophecy to Voldemort in an attempt to earn the so-called Dark Lord’s trust. It was only later that he realized how he’d been played by Dumbledore, because what kind of Headmaster interviewed someone who was applying for a teacher position in a dingy pub instead of the headmaster’s office? So he played along with the man’s sick game and went to “beg” Dumbledore for Lily’s life as well as her baby’s and even James’. Because they had been _his_ , just like the Hogwarts dungeons were _his_ ; just like all the Slytherin students under his care were _his_ to protect, _his_ to nurture and raise in the absence of their parents, _his_ to teach and _his_ to mold into the best version of themselves they could become. 

He didn’t bother begging Voldemort for Lily’s life however, because he wasn’t _stupid_ thank you very much, and he knew Lily better than anyone else. She would never step aside and let some stupid psycho kill her child.

It didn’t matter in the end; they were all dead safe for little Hazel despite the fact that he had patrolled the Potter house in Godric’s Hollow every single night like a prowling feline ready to kill anyone who posed a threat to those who were _his._

It was just his luck that he had been summoned by Dumbledore _that_ night. Which had been suspicious in itself and had convinced him that Dumbledore really was planning for the Potters to die.

He blinked those dark thoughts away when the ornate door he had standing in front of opened to reveal Cassie’s Head House Elf Titzzi. The elf insisted on mothering him ever since their first time meeting.

“Master Severus! It is good see you! Come in, come in!”

“Titzzi.” He greeted the diminutive elf warmly and he stepped in the house. “Good to see as well. Is your mistress here?”

“Of course! She’s waiting for you in the solarium.”

He smiled, a feeling of calm washing over him as he took in his familiar surroundings.

“Cassie, it’s good to see you.” He greeted his aunt in all but blood warmly as he sunk into the armchair across from the woman who bore such a strong resemblance to the teenaged girl he had spent the majority of the previous day with. “How are you feeling today?”

Cassiopeia had fallen ill a few months ago, but he wasn’t overly worried–at least not anymore. Thanks to his talents in potion, he was able to find a cure and she was fully on her way to recovery instead of the long drawn out death that would’ve awaited her otherwise. Nevertheless, it was better to ask than to lose her to some unpredicted complications.

“I’m doing perfectly fine, don’t you worry about me; that’s my job.”

He grinned in amusement at the familiar situation and sentence but didn’t say anything as he busied himself by pouring the tea in the delicate porcelain tea set that had been provided by the elves. The ceramics’ abstract hand painted embellishments were quite tasteful done in black acrylic; elegant and detailed without being gaudy and quite appropriate on a pure white background. The attention to detail that could be observed in every brush of the paintbrush; every swirl, dot and line made the tea set a true art piece.

Pouring the tea in two assorted cups he admired the rich dark red colour of the black darjeeling tea. It contrasted sharply with the immaculate white interior of the tea cups.

“You won’t believe who I met yesterday.” He began conversationally, smiling slightly when Cassie raised a prompting eyebrow.

“Oh? Do tell.”

“Hazel Potter, who is apparently my goddaughter. I accompanied her to Diagon Alley for her school shopping.”

The only sign of surprise from the only positive parental figure in his life was the minute widening of her intense blue eyes.

“Really now? What is she like?”

“You would like her.” He said with a wry, yet fond twitch of his lips. Out of all of his goddaughter’s relatives, the brat reminded him of Cassie the most; they had the same cunning mind, as well as a similar thirst for knowledge and information. “Quite frankly she reminds me a lot of you.”

“Oh? In that case do you think she would agree to come if I invited her to an afternoon of tea and gossip?”

“I believe you will be pleasantly surprised.”

“It’s settled then. Are you still in contact with her or will you have to wait until school begins to talk to her again?”

“She managed to wrangle an engagement to meet again out of me before we parted.” His voice was a drawl tinged with no small amount of amusement as his lips twitched upward in remembrance of how well the girl had played him, the goblins and everyone else she’d crossed paths with in the alley to get what she wanted. He wouldn’t be surprised if she ended up in Slytherin–if her thirst for knowledge didn’t win out and land her in Ravenclaw that is.

“Then please pass on an invitation for an afternoon of tea this Friday.”

He nodded his understanding under her suddenly intense and hungry gaze. He was glad she would finally have a relief from boredom that plagued her so often these days, even if it came in the form of a talented eleven year old girl.

“Now Sevvie-dear,” she began, leaning forward gracefully even as she easily ignored his grimace at the horrid pet name. “Tell me about your experiments with the Felix Felicis potion. Did you have any more breakthroughs since the last time we saw each other?”

Severus grinned and lost himself in a discussion about the intricacies of potions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! It’s done!
> 
> Things are moving, and quickly at that; only one more chapter before Hogwarts.
> 
> What do you think of Cassiopeia? Is she a character you would be interested in seeing more of throughout the whole story?
> 
> Do you want to see Hazel be friends with [one of] the Patil twins?


	9. Down The Rabbit Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Wonderland, she thought wryly as she boarded the train.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter of the Pre-Hogwarts Arc if you will, so next chapter things will really get moving. Have fun~!
> 
> -MS
> 
> UPDATE LOG  
> ~15/03/2021~  
> Elaborated Cassie and Hazel’s interactions

“Mou. Bring me to Sirina Star’s account manager. Time is money; do not want to waste mine.”

Sharpaxe stared at the cloaked individual no taller than a human toddler hovering in front of him at eye level with a glowing indigo pacifier around their neck and a snake floating above their head.

“Do you have the letter?”

An envelope floated towards his desk and dropped onto its hardwood surface.

He scanned the letter and nodded in approval; everything was in order. Sliding off his stool, he placed a  _ closed  _ sign on top of his desk.

“Follow me.”

They soon arrived in front of Skyholder’s opulent office and the fake toddler entered without prompting, demanding that Sirina Star’s financial records and statements be promptly brought out in a monotone, nonsensical tone. Viper then hovered around the room, picking up various items and trinkets and seemingly weighing them as if considering how much money they were worth.

As soon as the requested documents were sent up from the archives, the fake toddler drifted back towards the desk, snatching the folders out of his hand and perusing them attentively.

“Mu. There is room for improvement.” Viper glanced at them before turning back to the sheets of paper in their hands. “Take careful notes of everything I say, because I won’t be repeating myself and if anything is not done following my exact instructions or up to standards I will not be pleased. Time is money, do not waste mine.”

* * *

“Cassiopeia Black told me to pass on an invite for tea Friday afternoon.”

Hazel looked up from her tea and her slight smile widened minutely, betraying her keen interest.

“Oh? Do tell her I accept her gracious invitation then. I would love to meet the woman you spoke so fondly of last time we met.”

“Excellent, I’ll pass on the message then.”

“Good.” His goddaughter gave a firm nod before looking at him with eyes filled with hope that nearly hid the mischievous glint they also contained. “Can you teach me more about runes now, Uncle Sev?”

He groaned in exasperation but gave in to the brat’s puppy look readily, unable to stop the smile pulling at his lips when she pumped a fist in the air in a show of delight and excitement. His goddaughter leaned forward with attentive and eager eyes while she pulled a leather bound notebook and a pen out of her ever-present purple and black shoulder bag with gold zippers. It had been a birthday present from Hazel’s best friend apparently. 

* * *

Hazel was perched on the window sill of her room at Laurel’s. Her back was propped comfortably against the window frame, her bare foot was resting on the backrest of the futon placed directly under the window. The other was dangling over the ledge, clad in a fuzzy baby blue sock. 

Green, purple and amber threads that she had knotted together at one extremity were tapped to the top of her bent knee as she painstakingly wove them into a friendship bracelet and thread them with wisps of her magic. Hopefully it would make the separation easier for Jade. Her first friend seemed to be taking it the hardest; she could see it clearly in her eyes.

Hazel looked up from her work when Sukai landed on her other knee, mindful of digging her talons in her knee. She cooed at her gorgeous owl, running a finger up and down her familiar’s breast feathers. There were two letters attached to her leg and she smiled, recognizing the loopy writing scrawled on the back of the first as being Fred’s while the other was from Severus.

She put Fred’s aside for the moment, wanting to take her time reading it later when she had confirmed that Severus had nothing urgent to say.

Plying off the seal with her nail she pulled out a slip of crisp white paper covered with neat, elegant writing.

_ Hazel _ , it began.  _ I will be picking you up at the Two Skylarks at half past ten. I expect you to be ready to leave as soon as I arrive.  _

_ Your godfather, _

_ Severus Snape. _

Smiling, she set the letter down and switched out of the lazy outfit she had thrown on this morning; tugging the gorgeous dark purple dress Laurel and Stacey had helped her choose over her head. It had been the latter’s ball gown and since Stacey was quite petite and Hazel quite tall for her age, it only needed a few adjustments to fit. Then she fought with the clasp of the necklace her mother in all but blood had gotten her for her tenth birthday. She smiled faintly when the familiar weight of the jasmine shaped pendant settled a little below her collarbone, taking a moment to gaze at the picture of her, Stacey and Laurel enclosed inside. They were dressed like chefs–complete with the hat–and laughing as they threw flour and chocolate powder at each other. Snapping the pendant closed with a faint click, she spent the next fifteen minutes wrestling her curls into a neat french braid and slipped a pair of simple black flats on before straightening to shoot a glance at a dozing Francisco.

§Fran’? Severus will be there any minute to pick me up. Do you want to come with?§

The snake lifted his head blearily and let out a lazy, incoherent hiss before going back to sleeping on her pillow.

She let out a fond chuckle as she grabbed her bag and keys.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’ then.” She quipped, setting out for the front door and dropping a quick farewell kiss on a sleeping Laurel’s cheek. They had stayed up quite late last night watching late night shows as they tended to do every Friday and Laurel had a habit of sleeping in on Saturdays because of it. It was their very own little ritual; just the two of them. They would cook a simple meal together and eat it in front of the television. Then they would run through the channels until they found one of their favorite TV series and share a liter of ice cream. She always enjoyed every single minute of it. “See you later, mum~”

* * *

Cassiopeia honestly couldn’t wait to meet Hazel Potter–or Peverell as the girl had decided to call herself in polite society. To receive praise from Severus was a very rare thing, so the girl had to be  _ more  _ than good. 

Hearing two voices, one belonging to her nephew in all but blood and the other to a young girl who was undoubtedly the Peverell Heiress, she did a last minute check of the room to make sure everything was perfect, straightened out the wrinkles only she could see in her skirts before nodding in satisfaction just in time for her guest to arrive.

Hazel Peverell was a very beautiful child indeed, who bore a strong resemblance to her dear sister Dorea as well as that Evans girl her nephew married. 

The raven black haired, verdant eyed eleven year old had a cold calculating glint and an intarissable thirst for knowledge that she  _ liked _ . It was well hidden behind a facade of serene politeness, but the girl still had a long way to go before she could fool her.

“Well met, Lady Black.” Said the girl with an unwavering pleasant facade, bowing from the waist down. “I thank you for your gracious invitation.”

“It is a pleasure to have you in my home, Heiress Peverell. Please, do not stay standing there and come sit with me.”

She poured the tea, smiling in satisfaction when the girl and Severus moved to do just that. 

There were a few beats of silence as they all placed a few macaroons, delicate pastries and iced biscuits onto small plates from her favourite tea set; all of the pure white ceramics had delicate black, purple and indigo roses painted by hand on them with an incredible amount of attention to details. It had been in the family for six generations; ever since a French aristocrat had given it to a daughter of the Black family as a courtship gift.

“I hope apparition wasn’t too hard on you, Heiress Peverell. I know from experience that it can be quite unpleasant for beginners.”

Peverell’s smile was as sharp as her own now.

“Thank you for your concern, Lady Black. My accidental magic resulted in me apparating a few times however so I am well used to the feeling.”

“Oh? That’s quite rare, even for a child experiencing regular cases of accidental magic.”

“What can I say; my mentor often told me I had a talent for accomplishing the impossible.” Drawled Hazel Potter with a sharp, yet cheeky grin.

“You must be quite the interesting person to have around then, Miss Peverell.”

“None of that, please. My name is Hazel and people seem quite fond of using it; especially when berating me. I don’t see why it should be any different with you.”

“Hazel, then. You may call me Cassie; I am your aunt after all. Severus told me you had some rather diverse interests for someone so young. Would you mind telling me more about them?”

“Well, I am fascinated by languages and martial arts. Until recently I was also a gymnast, but I decided that it would be best to set my sights elsewhere.”

Hazel went on to describe how she had learned martial arts from a master of the art who had also taught her how to control her magic at such a young age, and speak Cantonese, Japanese and Chinese.

She spoke of her love for books about all kinds of subjects ranging from psychology (apparently another of her mentors had taught her the basics of reading people) to biographies and historical books. To learn from others' mistakes, the girl explained with a whimsical tilt to her voice.

Better yet, she already understood the immense value and power of blackmail according to her many tales about bribing her account manager with embarrassing pictures of her mentors, who were acquaintances of the former.

Hazel would be a marvellous Snake.

* * *

Despite having just met Cassiopeia Black, Hazel could find herself admiring the older woman– a lot. 

The Black Lady had a keen mind and a sharp intellect so very similar to hers, and was an excellent conversationalist. She was also an intarissable well when it came to knowledge and information about magic, the magical community as a whole and the people in said society. 

Her home was done in tasteful dark tones with the occasional splash of colour that made the decor look classy and elegant as opposed to gaudy. The walls were covered in dark silk wallpaper and elaborate woodwork that went well with the equally dark wooden floorings. Plushy and clearly expensive rugs or carpeting could be found in every room. Vases filled with exotic flowers throned proudly on numerous pieces of furniture, and exquisite art pieces decorated the walls of the hallway, or were put on display in a place of pride above the mantelpiece.

The sunroom in which they had tea was beautiful in its own right, with three of its four walls being made of glass that looked out on the sea and the marvellous rose garden surrounding the house. Plants, vines and flowers covered most available surfaces, and in the middle of it all was a delicate iron wrought table surrounded by matching chairs that were made more comfortable to sit on with the aid colourful cushions.

Cassiopeia was an exceptionally beautiful, poised, smart, well-spoken and graceful woman; the kind of person she strived to become when she was older. The woman was also shamelessly ruthless, cunning and ambitious; ready to do everything to reach her goals and protect those she held dear–to protect her family.

* * *

Severus watched in amusement as his goddaughter and aunt bonded over their love for knowledge; as Hazel opened up to a perfect stranger without realizing it. It was a talent of Cassie’s; the main reason she was so good at gathering blackmail. People tended to drop the walls guarding their deepest, darkest secrets when they were in the woman’s company.

He resolutely ignored the feeling foreboding running up his spine as he watched Hazel and Cassie chat like old friends, laughing as Hazel regaled her great aunt with a truly hilarious tale of her abysmal talent in arts and craft; struck by; the feeling that he had just unleashed utter hell on the wizarding world by introducing those two to each other.

Instead Severus smiled slightly as his amethyst fire practically purred in contentment and satisfaction at the sight of the two most important women in his life getting along. 

Now if only his brother in all but blood was there as well—but that was wishful thinking. A week after the end of the war, the ridiculous man had packed up his belongings and gone on a self-imposed exile of shame in France before moving to Italy of all places. His sworn brother still paid Cassie regular visits, but other than that he rarely ventured into the British wizarding world. 

For now Severus would enjoy what he had.

* * *

Hazel spent the next month putting her affairs in order and spending as much time with those she would be leaving as possible. She also had tea at the Two Skylarks with Uncle Sev every Tuesday. It turned into a routine for the both of them; he would pick her up at the Dursleys or wherever she was staying at the time, and they would walk all the way to the tea shop. She would order oolong tea in remembrance of her Shīfu paired with a large serving of treacle tart; Severus on the hand always went with the blackest, most bitter tea the tea shop offered with a slice of toffee pecan pie on the side.

No matter what subject of conversation they started out with, they always drifted to one academic subject or another, especially magical ones.

At first they discussed the first year school books after she had read and annotated all of them. She made the decision to write a condensed version of every book in a different coloured notebook. It contained the raw theory, her personal notes and thoughts on the material and the useful tips and precisions about the subject provided by her godfather. After that was done, they discussed magical theory and she even received a crash course in potion theory. 

Severus spoke of her mother quite often. There was always a fond glint hidden in the depths of his dark eyes and a soft smile perched on his lips when he did.

She came to enjoy the man’s company a lot. His sharp wit, sarcastic remarks and caustic sense of humour always made for some very enjoyable and entertaining conversations.

Their time together never failed to remind her of countless battles of wits she indulged in with Reborn before he left. It also brought to mind fond memories of Fēng’s countless lessons on the art of subtly delivering hidden barbs. Who knew making the victim look like a bumbling idiot could be so entertaining?

* * *

Cassie hovered as she stood next to her, nudging her this way and that to adjust her stance. Her aunt had decided to take over her magic lessons so that once at Hogwarts, Hazel would be prepared for every eventuality. “Now that we’ve gone through the basics, Hazel, the first spell I want you to learn is a simple privacy charm. It doesn’t require that much power–though you have that in bounds. Furthermore, there are very low risks of harming yourself if you happen to fail the spell.” At her nod her great-aunt moved onto the more hands-on theory. “Now, the spell is  _ babella _ ; putting an accent on the two  _ a _ ’s. The wand movement is a loose circle followed by a sharp slash bisecting said circle.”

“What does it do?” She inquired as she went through the wand movements a few times to familiarise herself with them. 

“It converts whatever is said into languages outsiders don’t speak.”

Hazel let out an impressed noise, letting Cassie adjust her grip for the nth time in the past hour.

“Ingenious.”

“It is. One of the very last spells that were created before the British Wizarding Community’s common sense went down the drain; never to come up again.” Drawled Severus from his spot next to the fireplace.

She snorted, putting her wand away and running the spell through her mind a few times, only to jump when she felt a shift in the ambient magic. 

“Now dear, are you ready to try out the spell?” Spoke Cassie only for Severus to raise an eyebrow in obvious surprise.

“What is Sevvy-dear?”

Realizing what was going on, she closed her eyes and proceeded to dispel the privacy charm she had unknowingly put up.

Severus turned to her in shock and awe.

“You can do wandless magic?”

Catching Cassie’s gasp, she shrugged noncommittally.

“I had a good teacher.”

* * *

“Hazel is going to be a Raven, Cassie.” Drawled Severus, making Cassiopeia scoff.

“You are delusional, my dear. She’s going to be a Snake, Sev.”

She watched as the two adults descended into an argument like the children they pretended not to be. Of course, they were too prideful to ever admit doing something so undignified, calling it verbal sparring in an effort to save their faces. It didn’t change the fact that this exchange of snide insults and  _ because I said so _ ’s (she wasn’t kidding, Sev and Cassie had blurted out that particular sentence once and twice respectively and those two were supposed to be the epitome of everything Slytherin) was childish and nothing else.

In the end they had decided that it was an almost fifty-fifty split. Though according to Uncle Sev the odds were leaning towards the eagles more than it did with the snakes. 

Her thirst for knowledge was after all her main quality and while she had cunning and ambition running through her veins in spades, she simply didn’t have the required patience to deal with Slytherin's political games for seven years in a row. 

Cassiopeia agreed, though she looked slightly disappointed that Hazel wouldn’t be an addition to Slytheri, one who actually deserved to be there.

Despite this, Cassie wanted to make sure she had all the necessary ammunition to survive in the event that she was sorted in Slytherin. By the end of their visit, the Black Lady had slipped a sleek, pocket sized black book into her bag. It was charmed to never run out of pages. Over twenty-five of its pages were already filled with interesting tidbits of gossip. The information was mainly light sort that could be slipped discreetly into a conversation and used as an underhanded insult against an annoying party. However there were also some truly juicy pieces of scandalous gossip that could be used as blackmail, in the instance that someone really pissed her off. 

Which was a good thing because she had a feeling that someone getting on her bad side would happen sooner than later. A great majority of the population, magical and not, were absolute dunderheads.

* * *

During their next visit, one week before school started, Cassies became interested in her witch wardrobe, dragging her on a shopping spree without giving her time to protest.

Their first stop was Place Cachée. They spent the first part of their afternoon getting pampered first at the famous _Vinyl & Valériane Spa_, then at _La boîte à coiffer_ , a hair salon where Cassie was a regular and had been for years. The hairdresser, Antoine Desrousseaux, was a man with flamboyant clothes, makeup and hairstyle; a charming french accent and an extravagant personality. He was one of her aunt’s long standing friends who knew about everything that went on in Paris and to a certain extent, France as well. By the time their haircuts were completed, Hazel had a much better idea of the happenings, political climate and differing opinions in France, in both worlds.

“ _ Merci _ , Antoine. I’ll come back for sure.” 

The hairdresser gave her a blinding grin and elegant wave.

“You are welcome anytime,  _ ma chère _ ~”

She smiled back even as Cassie guided her towards their next stop. They proceeded to raid no less than three different shops, and she got caught in a dizzying wind whirl of fabric, colour and texture. In the she got some new school robes of much higher quality at Cassie’s insistence :

“You’re going to be wearing robes like these almost every day for the next seven years. Might as well make sure you’re comfortable doing so.”

In the end it was Cassie’s specifications to the tailor to ensure a better freedom of movement that convinced her. She had been horrified by how little range of mobility those monstrosities witches and wizards called robes allowed. Her new robes were much better in that department despite looking pretty much the same except perhaps for the quality of the fabric that was visibly superior, being acromantula silk and all

Cassie had given her a smug little smirk and a wink when she agreed and went through her favorite  _ katas _ to test out the limits of the outfit, making her hold back a roll of her eyes. She was still unwilling to let down her masks in public, after all.

Once done, the older woman apparated them to Bazar Cherche & Trouve, where they spent the rest of the afternoon drifting from one colourful stall to the other, buying whatever caught their fancy. Well, her auntie did; she was much more reserved about what she purchased. Laurel had taught her the distinction between meaningful and superficial, and how important it was to take a moment to ask herself in which category would the item she was planning to buy would eventually fall into. 

That night she came home with a big smile, telling her mum all about her day over supper.  


* * *

“Oh you have to hear about this one, Hazel!” She said in french, carefully placing her cup on her saucer as she chose from the extensive collection of sweets she had ordered down from the kitchen.

“Do tell, I’m all ears.” Drawled her niece in the same language, leaning forward. Cassiopeia had been delighted to have the opportunity to teach French to the girl at the latter’s request. She was very proud of Hazel, who took to the language with surprising ease and was making progress through leaps and bounds every time they met.

How she had survived so long without an apprentice who’s love for blac–erm… gossip and knowledge rivalled her own, she had no idea.

“Do you remember the french ambassador Antoine told us about? Hubert Dupont? Well it’s a little known fact that he and his wife have become regulars at Madam Magnolia’s Bathhouse in Knockturn over the past year.”

“There is more isn’t it?”

“The Dupont heir was born yesterday.”

“And since his wife is rumored to be infertile…”

“They might have gone for the desperate approach to acquire an heir. They blame a faulty diagnostic for the fact that they now have a child, and his wife has not been seen for over nine months for security purposes, but there are reports of a courtesan giving birth at St-Mungos who’s board was paid by an anonymous contributor a month in advance. The woman and child disappeared shortly after birth and there is now a woman in their entourage, whose hair is the same shade as the wife’s and consequently, the babe’s.”

“I suppose you acquired those records and made sure there were no other copies?” She only smiled; Hazel knew her too well already. “how about that Brazilian official you told me about? What has he been up to?”

“Nothing good, dear. His dealings with that diamond quarry in Africa are becoming shadier every year.”

Hazel took a sip of her favored oolong tea, the action was impossibly graceful, measured and full of the kind assurance even old blood heirs struggled to master. It always was when it came to her dearest niece; she had to meet Hazel’s tutor one day, he seemed like a fascinating man. She shifted forward with a slightly wider smile.

“I’m simply dying to know more, Cassie.”

* * *

As September drew closer, she couldn’t help but feel nervous about going to Hogwarts where she would be under Dumbledore’s influence, but at least she knew for a fact that she wouldn’t be alone; Severus would always have her back.

* * *

Finally September first came around, and with it the smell of banana-chocolate chips pancakes spreading through Laurels’ apartment. Hazel rubbed her eyes, her usual ingrained grace thrown out the window as she stumbled into the kitchen in a near perfect emulation of a zombie.

She took the time to peck Laurel’s cheek as she dragged herself towards her usual stool and was rewarded with a delighted laugh and a warm hand ruffling her hair that was already tousled by sleep.

She had drained the last of her daily cup of coffee and gone through at least six of Laurel’s delicious pancakes by the time she felt human once more. All the while Laurel watched on with a soft fond smile that radiated warmth and affection. She was going to miss this; these moments of home and family.

By the time Hazel climbed into Laurel’s bright yellow Beetle, she had triple checked that all her things were already packed away neatly in her trunk and she had told Sukai to fly ahead. There was no reason to trap her beloved owl partner in a small cage for more than eight hours straight when Sukai was perfectly capable of finding the school on her own. Unfortunately she couldn’t just ‘port to the train station because she had never been before. Having visited the location was the only limit to her teleportation skills at least she got to spend some more quality time with her surrogate mum, singing along with the crappy tunes on the radio.

It was with her shrunken trunk tucked in her pocket and Francisco wrapped around her upper arm hidden away from prying eyes that Hazel stared at the brick pillar located between platform nine and ten. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and casually walked towards the pillar. For a split second, all she could see was black as she walked through the column. Once she was on the other side, she gazed at the bright cherry red steam engine train that gleamed proudly in the noon sunlight pouring through the train station’s high windows. Thick white steam hovered lazily above the train. 

She deftly wove her way through the crowd of parents, students of all ages and young children, avoiding the numerous pet owls, cats and occasional toad roaming around. As she reached the train she breathed out in relief, glad to finally get a reprieve from the deafening cacophony surrounding from all sides.

Welcome to Wonderland, she couldn’t help but think wryly as she boarded the train.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think of the Cassie/Hazel interactions?
> 
> Hey, fun little story : I was reading something about the Avengers last weekend and it struck me; aren’t Xanxus and Squalo a criminal version of Captain America and James Barnes aka Winter Soldier? I mean in both case one has been iced for a while, and the other has a mechanical limb :D


	10. Welcome to Wonderland

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally reached Chapter Ten, what a milestone. 
> 
> Because of this I have a few announcements to make :
> 
> First and foremost, I want to dedicate this chapter to Stofyn who added Mad Hatter to her (A.N : sorry Stofyn this is twice I’ve tried to change it and the World seems to be against me on this hopefully this time it’ll stick) "There are no words for this beauty" collection. Thank you for thinking so highly of my work.
> 
> Next, I want to thank everyone who has been with me in the comments since the beginning, helping me figure things out and giving me new ideas. 
> 
> I’m talking about Lilsqueaks, fantasy92, Trickster32, Lokiodinsonlover, Shadowragnar, Aysa_54 and nay_bluebell to name a few.
> 
> And finally thank you to everyone who left a kudo on the way out. Every single one of them make my heart do a little happy dance.
> 
> Now enough with the emotional stuff, on with the chapter!

Hazel sat in the last compartment of the Hogwarts Express waiting for the train to depart. A glance at her watch informed her that it was three minutes past eleven leaving her wondering what the hold up was; the Express should’ve left already. 

Sighing she looked back down at the book in her lap. Not even fifteen minute after boarding the train, she had become engrossed by the leatherbound notebook Cassie had given her on the sly that had “The Black Book of Blackmail : Starter Edition” embossed in gold into the rich black cover. Maybe not the most subtle title of all time but hey, at least Cassie had charmed it to look like a charms school book for everyone but her. It was truly fascinating and there was an entire three pages consacred to her cousin Draco Malfoy, with a cheerful You’ll need it scrawled in the margin of the first page in Cassie’s elegant penmanship. From the tales she heard from Severus about the boy, she should really make sure to remember to send a nice gift to the woman in thanks. 

After the cacophony of the platform, the silence that reigned in her chosen compartment, only broken by the rustling of paper every time she turned a page, was pure bliss to her ears. Hazel was interrupted by a slightly chubby and painfully nervous boy with short sandy hair and deep blue eyes. A croak brought her attention to the fact that he was holding a toad in his hands.

“Hello. D-do you m-mind if I sit here?”

“Of course not! Please come in, there’s plenty of space for the both of us.”

As her fellow first year stumbled his way through thanking her, there was the shadow of a relieved and grateful smile on his kind, round face. He took a seat across from her extremely gingerly.

“N-Neville Longbottom. Nice t-to meet you.”

“Likewise. My name is Hazel Potter. Say, you wouldn’t happen to be my godbrother, would you? When I asked the goblins about any remaining family they told me about you since we share a connection.”

“Erm… yes?”

She beamed at Neville, glad to see him relax slightly. 

“Great! It’s nice to finally meet the closest thing I have to a brother.”

Neville went to speak but the blue eyed wizard was interrupted by a first year witch with kind intelligent brown eyes and bushy hair

The girl stood in the doorway awkwardly, scanning the compartment. Her whole demeanour brightened considerably as soon as her eyes landed on the book Hazel was still holding in her hands.

“That book looks really interesting, you know? I’ve never seen it before, where did you–” Her fellow first year snapped her mouth shut audibly, a pale blush dusting her cheeks as an apologetic expression flashed across her face. She cleared her throat. “I’m Hermione Granger by the way. Do you mind if I sit here?”

Hazel grinned at the girl waved her in readily. This, was someone she could see becoming her friend.

“Not at all. Come in, make yourself comfortable; there’s more than enough space for the three of us.”

“Thanks. And sorry about before–I guess I’m what you can call an enthusiastic reader.”

“It’s no p-problem.”

“No harm done; birds of a feather stick together, right?”

Hermione snorted wryly, sitting next to her godbrother; back straight and hands folded primly in her school robe clad lap. 

“Sounds like a cheap fairytale to me.”

“Well why don’t we make it true, huh?” 

The bushy haired witch stared at her silently for a while, eyes filled with too many emotions for Hazel to decipher. A seed of cautious hope shone above everything else though. The witch nodded slowly.

“I’d like that.”

“Cool. I’m Hazel by the way, if you could please nod and move on instead of starting to worship me, I would greatly appreciate it.”

Hermione snapped her mouth shut with an embarrassed squeak. 

“I wasn’t–”

“You were, but you managed to stop yourself in time… so I forgive you.”

From there they devolved about the Hogwarts curriculum. It was Neville who spoke up first, telling them about his love for plants and herbology and how the class was the only one he was looking forward to because he was certain he would suck at the other courses. She frowned at that, making a mental promise to herself to help Neville with his studies and do something about the boy’s self-esteem issues. She had the feeling what she had seen so far was barely scratching the surface.

_No friend of mine should think so lowly of himself._

At the end of Neville’s passionate rant about all things plant related, her godbrother paused, looking awkward as if suddenly remembering where he was. It took the kind eyed a while to gather the courage to speak up again. “So… what house do you think you’ll be in?”

With that the conversation was right back on track as Hermione brightened and started rambling animatedly about how she had heard that Gryffindor was the best House, and how she wanted to be sorted into the house of the brave chivalrous lions.

She opened her mouth to protest against this undeserved shining endorsement of the Gryffs, but her godbrother beat her to it.

“Actually, I-I think you would have a rather hard time in Gryffindor. F-from what I understood about what my G-gran told me, the Gryffs are essentially the sport obsessed jocks of the school. Y-you seem like the studious type, and you won’t find anyone similar in that house.”

Hazel found herself agreeing entirely; she had heard enough rants from Uncle Sev to know that Gryffindor was not the best house, especially for someone like Hermione.

The way the brown eyed witch looked like her whole world had shattered underneath her would’ve been hilarious if not for the fact that this was another of Dumbledore’s tricks. Severus had told her all about it. The old man would give McGonagall the task of introducing the wizarding world to the muggleborns despite how busy she was, what with holding both the Deputy Headmistress and Head of the Gryffindor House position. The muggleborns’ first contact with the wizarding world was through the one who ran the house of the lions and Mcgonnagall had a tendency to shamelessly praise her house. Because of that a lot of the first generation wizards readily associated the Deputy Headmistress, and thus the house she was the Head of, with the first time they felt belonging after living in a world that often ostracized them for no reason whatsoever.

The rest was history.

“B-but! It’s the house where Dumbledore was sorted.”

“So?” She asked in a deadpan. “You are not that senile old coot–thank Morgana for her small mercies–and Neville is right; you would be downright miserable in the red and gold house.”

“Why do you call the Headmaster that? Isn’t it a bit–disrespectful?”

“Let’s just say I have my own personal reasons to dislike the man.” She almost snorted; _dislike_ was the understatement of the century. “Think about it though, how awesome would it be if we both ended up in Ravenclaw?”

Hermione nodded slowly, a thought look settling across the messy haired witch’s features.

“You’re right. It does seem like we would have a great time together in the same house.”

“And you, Neville, could be our ambassador in Hufflepuff. No! Please, don’t feel embarrassed.” She went on hurriedly as she saw her new friend redden in shame at the insinuation that he would be sorted in the house of the "leftovers". “You are brave, don’t get me wrong! You do have the potential to be great and stand up for yourself; I can see it clearly in your eyes. However, from what you told us about your greenhouses and how much work and effort you put into making your plants grow and flourish all by yourself everyday of the week, I think you are hardworking enough to qualify as a Hufflepuff.” She offered Neville a soft smile when he turned red in a different kind of embarrassment at the unexpected praise.

Any further conversation was halted by the hollering of the trolley lady a few compartments down.

She and Neville were their feet in mere seconds. While she had some sweets and pastries in her bag that Laurel had packed for her, she wanted to keep those for school where there would be no way for her to acquire any.

In the end, with the trolley lady’s help, she settled for three chocolate frogs, one liquorice wands, five sugar quills, one barley-sugar crystal ball and box of tiny dark Honeyduke chocolate bats.

“Thanks for you help, Madam! May I know your name?” She said as she rummaged through her brand new purse that Cassie had helped her choose while on their shopping spree. It had elaborate bronze clasps and zippers and was made from supple yet sturdy Sweedish Short-Snout dragon hide. The inside was lined with green silk so dark in colour that it looked black unless light hit it a certain way.

With a triumphant noise she fished out her wallet and retrieved her brand new Gringotts debit card from it. Plain black and tastefully discrete, the card was rectangular. It was embossed with an elaborate gold G and when she handed it to the trolley lady, it gleamed in the afternoon sunlight. 

Accepting her card and candies back, Hazel caught the surprised but pleased look that flashed over the woman’s face.

“You must be the first to ask me that in years, sheila.” Uttered the elderly woman with a smile and a thick Australian accent. “Name’s Charlotte, call me Charlie.”

Hazel gave the woman a blindingly bright smile.

“Like in the book Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?”

“Never heard of it. Is it any good?”

“It’s truly magical. Thanks again for your help, Charlie.”

Nev was next, greeting the woman with a smile and politely asking for some cauldron cakes. Unlike her, the wizard paid with galleons.

* * *

Accepting the handful of candies he had just purchased, Neville only barely noticed Trevor attempting a mad dash for the door.

Of course Trevor tried to escape. 

Again. For the fifth time since he stepped foot outside Longbottom Manor. 

On second thoughts, he should’ve named the toad Houdini after that squib who built his reputation using his latent magic to accomplish the most impossible escapist stunts.

That his familiar with troublesome escapist tendencies had stayed put as long as he did was a miracle in itself; Trevor must’ve been really exhausted from the noise of the packed crowd Neville had to painstakingly make his way through to board the Hogwarts Express.

An exasperated groan escaped him as he hurried to put his money pouch away. He was about to stop Trevor’s escape attempt when Hermione snatched his familiar from mid-air right before he made it to the door. The witch handed him Trevor, and he internally cursed the fact he couldn’t even thank his new friend–one of the first he ever made in fact–without blushing or stuttering.

Why couldn’t he do anything right? He bemoaned, slumping back into his seat and taking a bite of a cauldron cake. Sadly its tooth curling sweetness of the pastry wasn’t nearly enough to keep the bitterness of self-loathing crawling up his throat like an insidious poison.

Even the shy smile Hermione gave him and the lack of rejection didn’t do much either to soothe his embarrassment and the constant fear of losing his first friends once they realized how much of a failure he truly was.

He knew very well that it wasn’t healthy to hate yourself and constantly question your own worth, but how could he not when even his own grandmother, the woman who practically raised him from the age of one, thought so lowly of him that she never bothered stopping his uncle’s attempts to murder him?

He wasn’t even using the word "murder" lightly here. The man truly wanted him dead even to this day; he could still see the sick glint in Uncle Algie’s eyes as he let go of his ankle that day Neville finally proved he wasn’t a squib. The truly depraved man was clearly after the Longbottom fortune and it was only his weak accidental magic that kept him alive for eleven years.

As for his parents, well— Gran always said that he should try harder and be better so that he could make his parents proud. That could only mean that they weren’t proud of him yet, right? They probably thought he was a failure, like everyone else who heard about him.

If only he didn’t feel so sluggish all the time, or disassociated from everything happening around him, then he could actually amount to something...

He shook his head to shake away those thoughts when the compartment door slid open to reveal two grinning redheads. He shouldn’t be thinking about that right now; not when he now had friends who actually seemed to think he was worth their time and acceptance. 

“Hope you don’t mind–”

“If we join you?”

Hazel gave the two third year a broad grin, and waved them in. He idly wondered how she knew the twins.

“Feel free to come in, Gred, Forge.”

Hazel gave the redheads a beaming smile so bright and charismatic he felt the need to blink a few times. The girl gathered up the sweets strewn haphazardly on the bench next to her. He did blink bemusedly when the witch looked around and promptly dumped the treats into his lap with a laughing wink. Feeling no ill intent coming from his friend; only playfulness and camaraderie, he allowed himself a huff that had no real heat behind it. Carefully moving the sweets off his legs, he made sure none of them would fall to the ground due to the movement of the train and leaned back in his seat.

“It is wonderful to meet you face to face again, Sirina!” The twins declared in unison.

“Sirina?”

The ravenette gave a half-smirk at Hermione, who had unknowingly voiced the question on his mind.

“It’s how I introduced myself to those two very fine gentlemen when we met. I wanted to avoid being recognized as much as possible; being worshiped and having my personal space invaded by grown strangers is not my thing. Anyways, I guess the name stuck, even after I revealed my real name when we started a correspondence.”

The Weasley twins mock-gasped in their usual dramatic fashion, throwing themselves on the seat, either sides of Hazel and looped an arm around her shoulders as they returned the witch’s grin. 

“Did my ears deceive me, Gred?”

“I don’t think they did, Forge. You have the most reliable ears out of the two of us, and you cleaned out the earwax this morning.”

“That I did. Does that mean you heard it too, dearest brother?”

“That I did, Gred.” Intoned the twin on the left, nodding solemnly. “Heard it loud and clear.”

“She called us gentlemen! Us!”

“ _Very fine_ gentlemen, I believe is what she used, Gred.”

“This is too much... Princess, you flatter us so. I think I’m going into shock.”

“I think I might cry.” Drawled one of the redheads, fanning himself theatrically with a rudimentary neon green paper fan the third year had pulled out of nowhere. 

“Fred?”

“Yes George?”

“If I faint, catch me.”

“What if I faint before you do? I’m feeling quite lightheaded, Princess, why do you fluster us so?”

Fred snorted softly.

“If you faint, dearest brother, then I won’t catch you.”

George let out a loud gasp.

“You can’t mean that.”

“You of all people should know, I say what I mean–or is it the other way around?”

“Free~eed! Why must you be so mean to me?”

He and the others had long lost the battle against their laughter. Clutching his side while he wheezed and hiccuped, Neville realized that he couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed so freely. If this was what friendship was all about, he never wanted to let go of it; couldn’t imagine himself surviving if he was forced to go back to the choking, drowning loneliness from before. 

Next to him Hermione managed to wrestle her mirth under control long enough to clear her throat in a pointed way that reminded him uncomfortably of his grandmother, as well as speak up to reestablish calm and order in the courtro—err... compartment.

“Your point?”

The twins blinked slowly and glanced at each other before grinning widely.

“Ah right, the point we were trying to make is that–”

“You still call us Gred–”

“–and Forge–”

“–so of course you’re stuck with the name Sirina, Little Star.”

“... I see. So, how was your last week of the summer? 

“Well, your Majesty, with those prank ideas you so graciously bestowed upon us this summer we managed–”

“–to drag our dearest Ginny into a prank war that lasted two weeks.”

“She even stopped sulking about being left behind for another year–”

“–and asked us to teach her our craft.”

His godsister bumped shoulders lightly with the two third years, and gave them an intense serious look that had the redheads straightening visibly.

“I’m glad I was of help, but please, could you stop with the twin speak, Gred, Forge. As much as I do find it hilarious, I know it isn’t really you.”

Neville watched how Fred and George looked visibly taken aback by the request, before all pretence that remained in their demeanour, cloaking who they truly were, was washed away by pure warmth that felt like sunshine.

“Now tell me, Fred, what methods of chaos have you and your brother come up with since the last time we saw each other?”

The trio exchanged scheming looks that didn’t bode well for the staff’s–no, make that the entire school’s–sanity. 

Excitement coursed through him at the thought that he might be included in the planning of pranks in the near future... something he had never done before. He’d always been too scared of Gran’s reaction to try and spring mischievous anything in her vicinity. Not to mention that the one time the Weasleys Family had come to visit, he had been too nervous to approach the twins on his own. That, and he had been very busy hiding from the youngest Weasley son’s jeers to

“Well, Princess, we have been nothing but busy inventing all summer. We are fully stocked up on everything we would need and more to cause unholy amounts of mischief.

Hazel’s lips curled into a satisfied smirk.

“Wonderful work, my _cavalieri caotici._ I’m so glad I met you guys.” She drawled with laughter and mayhem clear as day in her stunning green eyes. “After all, what is life without a bit of chaos to spice things up?”

“Couldn’t have said it better, Little Starlina.”

Hazel’s smile softened into something more serious as she leaned into Fred’s side almost imperceptibly. 

“Thanks Gred.”

“Anytime, Sirina.”

* * *

By the time the sun had gone down enough that he–as the person who was the closest to the window who wasn’t occupied planning pranks–had to shut the blinds so it wasn’t in his eyes anymore, there was a lull in their conversations as hunger made itself known to him despite all the sweets he had eaten. 

Hearing his stomach grumble, his godsister got up and grabbed a clearly muggle shoulder bag from the racks. Rummaging through it she pulled out a large lunch box that was filled to the brim with delicious looking finger sandwiches. There was a vast variety of dressings, including black forest ham, emmental and pickle; turkey, mustard and sour berry jam; tuna, spicy mayo and celery; chicken, tomato and olives; eggs and cheese; chicken, mayo, onion and celery; and cherry tomato and cucumber. Another tupperware was brought out and his new friend pried it open, revealing the miniature meat pies and quiches piled inside. Napkins, paper cups and plates and wet wipes of some sort came next, and Hazel turned to them with a wide grin.

“Hungry, anyone? It’s all homemade and testified for deliciousness by my mom and myself.”

Neville accepted the offer shyly and the others did as well. Pulling out his own lunch box from his trunk, he quietly insisted on sharing with his new friends, wanting to show them how much he appreciated their friendship. They all thanked him profusely as the twins and Hermione added their own food to the growing impromptu potluck. 

* * *

Only breadcrumbs were left in their plates and everything had been put away when Forge managed to rope everyone into a game of exploding snap, promising to regrown any singed eyebrows. A thermos of tea and a tin of homemade cookies were placed in the centre of the foldable table.

By the end of the third round, the sweets somehow become their main currency as Hazel tried to teach them poker the same way Reborn did to her–which ultimately involved shameless cheating and taking advantage of the others being new to the rules to get as many cookies for herself. 

Luckily for the others, Fred was a very quick learner and had no qualms playing dirty right back at her.

He won six rounds effortlessly before she threw her cards down and admitted defeat. The insufferable smirk he had given her then still hadn’t left his face, and didn’t seem to be inclined to do so anytime soon.

The next few hours went by like a flash of lightning, and soon the countryside was bathed in the warm glow of the sunset that lined the horizon in a flamboyant array of purples, reds, oranges and yellow to create a watercolour of sunshades that was soon shrouded by a canopy of clouds. A downpour battered the verdant landscape for an hour before leaving as abruptly as it had arrived, followed by thick mist crawling through the corn fields and twining around the evergreens playfully.

* * *

Feeling a weight on his left shoulder, Neville turned his head and barely held back the chuckle bubbling in his throat at the sight before him. It seemed that rhythmic rocking of the train had lulled Hermione into a light slumber and that his friend had unconsciously sought out the closest thing that resembled a pillow. 

Catching the others attention with a few gestures of his free arm, he wasn’t even surprised when Hazel pulled a camera out of nowhere and immediately started snapping pictures of the two of them with a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

Neville straightened from his lazy slouch when he felt the Hogwarts Express slow down gradually. Next to him Hermione was roused from her light nap when the train came to a screeching stop. She sat up, and winced apologetically when he took a moment to rub the feelings back into his arm.

What followed was a chaotic mess as they all tried to retrieve their trunks while being mindful of the other occupants of the compartiment and the limited space of their current location.

Everyone but Hazel it seemed, since she was still lounging in her seat with a lazy smirk firmly in place on her face.

“Do you not have a trunk as well, Hazel?” Hermione blurted out as she sat back down with her trunk held securely in her lap. Neville, Fred and George did the same. His godsister leaned back in her seat with more grace than should be possible considering their current location and situation, her smirk widening as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a miniature trunk the size of a matchbox after a few seconds spent rummaging through what was undoubtedly a magically expanded pocket. He stared at it in surprise, wondering how wealthy she was to be able to afford something like this. Magical trunks with that kind of enchantments on them and probably a lot more features as well (because from the short time he’d known the green eyed witch he knew enough that he didn’t believe she’d stopped at the shrinking charm and that there was undoubtedly a panoply of features that had been added to the trunk he was decidedly better off not knowing about) were nothing but exorbitantly expensive.

“Blimey… is that a shrinkable trunk? Must’ve cost you a fortune.” Uttered Fred. Hazel nodded as she tucked the miniature trunk back in her pocket.

“It did, but it was more than worth the expense, I can assure you.”

He let out a noise of agreement, eying the pocket in which the trunk had vanished from view appreciatively.

“That, I have no doubt. They are awesome.”

“They seem great! Where do I get one?”

Hazel gave Hermione a grin and jumped to her feet as the chaotic cacophony outside calmed down a bit, holding out a hand for the witch next to him to take.

“Let’s get out of here.” Declared Hazel as they stepped off the scarlet train. 

He stared around the crowded platform, her gaze instantly drawn to a gigantic man with an equally massive lantern dangling from his large fist. The giant was hollering through his messy beard for the first years to follow him and in no time all of them were gathered around him. Fred and George, on the other hand, met up with their friend Lee they’d told them about. The trio of third years followed the other older students towards the carriages that could barely be seen in the distance.

They followed the giant man down a sinuous path that weaved its way through a forest of evergreens, down to a rocky shore where a dozen boats were moored to rickety docks.

“No more’n four to a boat!”

* * *

Hazel was starting to understand what Sev meant about his dislike towards crowding as she sat in the Great Hall at the table that was decked in blues and bronze. On her right sat Hermione while a second year boy with bright blond hair flanked her left. 

Which would have been fine if the teen had not proven himself to be a sexist, prejudiced moronic dunderhead who made her itch for her beloved knives and stab him in the eyes. 

Luckily for the moron, Fēng had hammered her the value of self-control into her head and she knew better than to attack someone for no reason in the middle of a crowded dining room. 

It was great difficulty that she managed to keep smiling pleasantly as she concentrated on her plate that was laden with a chicken breast, a good portion carrots and a slice of bread; Fēng had introduced her to healthier foods when she told him her stomach often rebelled at the smell of fatty food, bacon and eggs–in an effort to reign in her temper.

The meal seemed to drag on forever by the time the desserts materialised in gold dishes, she found herself twirling her steak knife between nimble fingers as she wondered just how much longer she was going to have to endure this circus. 

Growing more restless and agitated she glanced towards the head table and was amused to note that she wasn’t alone in her predicament; Uncle Severus was gripping his knife with whitened knuckles as he glowered at everyone.

Hazel startled when she felt a soft hand cover her own. Turning her head, she found herself at the receiving end of one of Hermione’s smiles. 

“Odds of surviving this horror?” Murmured her new friend in a low voice that conveyed genuine concern, panic and disgust. She let out a wry chuckle, sending a frigid glare at the Dunderhead on her left when he tried to get her attention yet again. The blonde moron blanched, finally shutting up and deciding it would be in his best interest to leave her alone.

There was a faintly amused smile on Hermione’s lips when Hazel’s focus switched back to her friend. Dumbledore rose from his gold plated throne-like monstrosity of a chair, but they both opted to ignore him in favor of continuing their hushed conversation.

“Terrifyingly low. You?” 

“About the same.” Quipped the brown eyed witch tersely, only to wince seconds afterwards. Hazel wasn’t far behind as her usually pleasant expression twisted into a pained cringe as the most horrifyingly atrocious cacophony she ever had the misfortune of hearing invaded the hall. 

It was at that moment, that she decided how much she hated everything about the Hogwarts song her godfather had complained about during one of their weekly meetings. 

The melody was unimaginative; the lyrics, puerile and unoriginal. 

Considering the sheer number of people singing dramatically different melodies all at the same time, on top of the fact that more than a seventh of the school didn’t know the lyrics; the whole thing was anything but harmonious or synchronized. To make matters worse, only a handful of students were actually able to sing so the majority of the voices filling the hall were horrifyingly off-key.

By the time it was over, she felt like she was seconds away from passing out from the sheer sensory overload, and she was sure at least one of her eardrums had burst.

Hermione wasn’t in any better shape; Uncle Sev looked both a little worse for wear and utterly disgusted by this farce; Francisco’s coiling around her arm tightened and Neville looked shell shocked. By the look in his eyes, he wanted nothing more than to run away as far as physically possible from this utter madness that mascarated as a school. 

She couldn’t help but agree wholeheartedly with the sentiment. There were many places she’d rather be than this hellish hall. Preferably somewhere like Australia, or maybe America. Only an ocean could keep whatever this shit was from reaching her. As it was, the mere thought of having to go through this kind of torture every year filled her with dread.

“ _Mio dio_. I take that back. Those odds from earlier have now dropped considerably lower.” She muttered lowly as the twins–who were the only ones of her friends who seemed unaffected by the whole ordeal–finished up the song. Since they had gone with a slow funebre tune as their melody they were the only ones still singing. 

Hermione snorted softly and nodded her fervent agreement. Hazel managed a faint, smile that was tinged with amusement at the edges.

Their focus was redirected towards the head table Dumbledore spoke once again, radiating a harmless grandfatherly aura that grated her nerves in all the wrong ways. She knew damn well that the facade was just that, a masterfully constructed mask that was fake despite how it worked at convincing the blind and the ignorant.

The Headmaster’s parting words met various reactions. There were many quirked eyebrows–both sceptical and puzzled. Mostly from the students surrounding her and over at the Slytherin table though others seemed uncomfortable as well. Disgust, disdain, disbelief and annoyance were sentiments shared by a majority of the aforementioned. The rest of the students were split between being reverently awed, awkwardly amused, dubiously disconcerted, faintly uncomfortable, utterly confused, or just plain done with the old man, and the world in general. Others had looks of concern etched on their faces, mingled with a good dose of caution and an inkling of skepticism. 

As soon as she humanely could, Hazel extirpated herself from her seat and followed the prefects clad in blue and bronze out of the Hall.

This was going to be a long year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> • Cavaliere : knight  
> • cavalieri caotici : chaotic knights
> 
> What did you think of the twins?
> 
> How do you see Hazel’s relationship with Draco and the teachers?
> 
> Disclaimer : the title "The Black Book of Blackmail : Starter Edition™" is not my idea, but KIT10_not_K9’s. Thanks for the comment, I found it hilarious.
> 
> Btw, I wrote this : “You have the most reliable ears out of the two of us” and cried because this is George we’re talking about and he lost an ear in canon ;( 
> 
> I will make sure George never becomes holy with my Dying Will!
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment on your way out~


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